Harry Potter, age 8
by RainCityWriter
Summary: This is a story of what could have happened if the Dursleys had died when Harry was eight years old and Snape had taken over his guardianship. Warning, there will be parental, non-sexual spanking of a child. The sequel is started: Harry Potter, age 9.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of these characters, nor do I make any money playing with them.

Snape, one of the youngest professors in Hogwarts history, was working in his lab. He had several potions merrily bubbling away as he graded essays, and was feeling grouchier by the minute. Surely by fourth year students should at least be able to spell respectably?

He heard the whoosh of his floo activating, but didn't even look up to see who it was. The only person who would dare to come into his lab unannounced was one wizard he had nothing to fear from. He snorted, however, when the predictable "Severus, my boy!" came from his fireplace.

"Good evening, Albus," he responded. "I'll be with you in one minute."

"Take your time," the headmaster responded merrily. "I am unannounced."

Severus carefully put up his potions to simmer and, wiping his hands, faced the headmaster. "Tea?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"That would be lovely," the headmaster answered, as if his calling in to the dungeon was an everyday occurrence. "But I do not believe that we have time today."

"Really?" Severus answered, his eyebrow arching. He was the picture of cool indifference, but secretly wondered about what could possibly bring the headmaster to talk to him at this hour. "An emergency with a student, perhaps?"

"No, with your Godson."

"Draco?"

"The other one."

Severus responded with silence and a hint of malice on his face. "You are the only one alive that knows about that," he answered with ice in his voice.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore told him, clasping his hands in front of him. "That is fortunate that I do because it seems he is in need of you now."

"What happened to the relatives he's living with?"

"They died in a car crash," Dumbledore answered sadly. "I have tried to see if there was something more sinister to it, but right now it seems to just be an ordinary muggle death. Or deaths, rather."

"It seems an inconvenient time for Black to be in prison, he is the legal Godfather."

"Yes, there is that," Dumbledore answered. "But Askaban he is in. So that leaves the second Godfather, the one Lily requested."

"Leave it to you to remember that detail."

"Of course," Albus merrily told him. "So do you want the boy to live here at school with you or at your home in Spinner's End?"

"I have not agreed to this," Snape protested evenly. "Do you really think my life here as a Potions Master is conducive to raising a child? Is the brat even out of diapers?"

"He is eight, Severus," the headmaster answered. "Three years from coming to Hogwarts."

"There are plenty of wizarding families that would love to raise the little celebrity," Snape snapped. "Why should it be me?"

"You know why," Albus told him, his easy demeanor dissipating as he became serious. "And you know why you are the choice over Sirius, even if he weren't in prison. You and Lily shared blood."

"That was a stupid ritual we did as children!"

"And it is enough to satisfy the blood wards. Thank goodness you did, or the boy would have no hope."

"Why don't you look after him?" he asked Albus angrily.

"We both know why," Albus replied sadly. "I wish that I could. But you, Severus Snape, are his best hope for surviving until he can save us all."

Severus, knowing just how much he would not be able to talk himself out of it, took a deep breath. "I do not have the kind and gentle temperament required for raising children," Severus answered. "And what am I supposed to do with the brat while I'm teaching?"

"There is but a month before the end of term," Albus replied. "Perhaps you could install him at Spinner's End until that time? You could have your house elf look after him while you are gone, or maybe you could consider a nanny. Your obligations here would be minimal so you would have time to be with him. I will personally oversee your Slytherins for you, and you have a lab at home as well as here. You could treat teaching like a day job where you go home in the evening."

"I am not sure my obligations at Hogwarts are so easily covered."

"Is there any greater obligation than raising the savior of the wizarding world?" Albus asked him, seriously. "We can manage without you for a month, and next fall you can make a more informed decision. And Severus, though you play at having a mean and sarcastic demeanor, do not try to tell me that you're not a good man. I know better."

Snape harrumphed but knew that the old man had outmaneuvered him. Honestly, was there any getting around that man? It had been years since he had ever even really tried, but he had a feeling that if he were to become Potter's guardian than they would be more at odds than they ever had been before. Merlin! Potter's guardian! Snape rolled his eyes at the inevitability of it all, he did know that he was the best choice to keep the boy safe until he could save the world. James Potter would come back to haunt him just for him having the audacity to entertain such a notion.

"But one word of advice I will offer," Dumbledore continued. "You need to know him for who he really is, as Harry, not as James' son. Do not let your hate for his father affect the treatment of his son."

"If I am going to do this," Snape told him, gratingly accepting the inevitable, "I do not want interference. He would need to be raised in a clear-eyed fashion, not with as much sympathy and overindulgence as you would give him. There will be order and discipline."

"As long as I do not feel that you are properly tending to the boy's needs and not abusing him, I am fine with those terms," Dumbledore told him. "But Snape, do you honestly think he needs order and discipline more than sympathy? He has just lost his second set of parents."

"I'm sure the brat had his relatives wrapped around his little finger doing his every bidding. He will need order and discipline."

Snape accompanied Dumbledore to his office, where the brat in question was staring wide-eyed while sipping a cup of cocoa. McGonagall was sitting with him, calmly sipping her tea and trying to be calm and supportive.

"Harry, my boy, this is your Godfather, Severus Snape," Dumbledore told him. "He was a very close friend of your mother's from childhood."

Harry looked up at the tall man dressed in black, and blinked in alarm. He seemed to shrink into his chair, and the cup of cocoa shook a little bit. He had never seen anyone as intimidating as the man before him, surely this man could be far more evil than his relatives. At least he could usually outrun Uncle Vernon and Dudley, this man made him freeze just with a look from his black eyes.

"Oh, he looks scary, but he is no that bad," McGonagall assured Harry with her soft Scottish lilt.

"I am that bad," Snape contradicted her. "Where are the boy's things?"

Harry reached down to a worn bag half-full. He could not find his voice to say anything, but Snape understood the gesture.

"Where are the rest of his things?" Snape asked sharply. Surely a child such as Potter would have trunks full of junk for him to accomodate.

"He appears to just have this," McGonagall told him. "I'm not sure if his other things were misplaced in the confusion or what, he doesn't seem to be able to say."

"I see," Snape glared at the downturned head of the boy. "Insolence."

"I believe it to be shock," McGonagall told him with a outwardly gentle voice, though Snape heard the strength and the warning in her voice. "He has had a difficult few days." Snape looked sharply into the eyes of his former teacher, and she looked steadily back at him. Recognizing her message of being kind to the boy, he looked away hurriedly. He knew better than to directly challenge the woman.

"You could stay for some tea," Dumbledore offered Snape, smirking at the polite sideways reprimand his deputy headmaster had given Snape.

"I think it best to be going soon," Snape answered, sizing the boy up. He was undersized, had awkward glasses, and his clothes were several sizes too large but worn out. Snape wondered if he were a picky eater and a slave to modern fashions that seemed to favor large, worn-out clothing. Perhaps his shaggy hair was also an outpouring of his style, he reasoned. Snape did not look in the boy's eyes, however, he felt it best to keep this impersonal and professional.

"Mr. Potter, bring your bag and come with me."

Harry obeyed silently, setting down his cocoa and picking up his bag.

"I will expect a full report tomorrow," Dumbledore told Snape. "And we will visit this weekend as well once Harry has a chance to settle in."

"You take good care of that boy, Severus," McGonagall told him sternly. "Or you shall have me to deal with."

Snape ignored them, and took the boy by the shoulder to usher him over to the fireplace. Harry barely had time to blink before the great black man said "Spinner's End!" and they whooshed away. He found himself sprawled over the floor of a house with soot billowing out, causing him to cough.

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Harry Potter and the Potter Universe is the property of J K Rowling and various other publishing and filming companies. I neither receive nor accept any monetary reward nor any goods from writing this fan fiction.

It has been brought to my attention that the beginning few chapters of my story have some similarities to a previously published fanfic. I don't recall ever reading her wonderful story before, but the similarities are so striking that I feel I must cite her work as well. So it is in accidental homage that I present my writing, the original is below and hope you take the time to read this wonderful author

s/4593040/1/The-Seven-Year-Snitch


	2. Chapter 2

"I need to get Treadle on that chimney," the man remarked as he stepped out of the fireplace.

"Sir?"

"Treadle is my house elf," the man replied. "He will be looking after you during the day when I'm gone at work."

Though it made no sense, Harry knew better than to ask too many questions. He had been well-trained in that regard. He stood up, brushing himself off, and looked around the room. It was a dark and dusty room, with ancient wood paneling and paint stained with years past. He saw a worn couch pushed up against the wall, and a few chairs placed haphazardly around the room. He had never seen a room so different than his Aunt's house in his life, and he felt inclined to like that immediately. He looked across the room, and could just make out that there was a cupboard under the stairs here as well, and shivered in fear.

"This way, Mr. Potter," Snape directed in a bored voice. "Though I'm sure this does not live up to your grand expectations."

Wisely, Harry stayed silent and followed the tall black man up the stairs and down a dark corridor, letting out a small sigh of relief when the cupboard was passed without comment. Lights blazed to life as they walked by, and Harry struggled to keep up with the man's long gait.

"Here is your room," Snape announced as he opened a door with a disused air about it. Harry entered the room, and though it had a few books and papers strewn about, it looked to be a large and comfortable room.

"I get a room?" he asked in wonder.

"None of your cheek," Snape growled darkly. "It may not be the best room, but it is adequate to your needs."

"I have never had a whole room to myself before," Harry tried to explain, watching wide-eyed as Snape flicked his wand and several piles of books and papers disappeared with a pop. Soon the room was mainly empty, ready for its new occupant. With a second thought, he adjusted the height of the desk to work for Harry and also added some children's books that had been stored in the library. With a flick, the bedspread straightened itself and snapped out some of its dust.

"Likely story," Snape sniffed. "Your Aunt and Uncle made a good income and you lived in an adequate neighborhood. You will not be able to solicit undue sympathy from me, Mr. Potter. What did you think, I would put you on the couch? Or in the cupboard?"

"They didn't like me," Harry replied so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Did they treat you like a son rather than a celebrity? They weren't part of your adoring fan base?"

"Celebrity?" Harry asked. "I don't understand."

"Do you really think you can convince me that you don't know you're the Boy That Lived? That you're not the hero of the wizarding world?"

Flummoxed, Harry had no idea how to respond to that. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can be silent, boy, if you insist on lying," Snape said with menace.

Courage flared in Harry then, he did not like being accused of lying. "I am not lying!" he insisted.

"You do not know me now, boy, but I am Severus Snape. I am potions master at Hogwarts and head of Slytherin house. I will NOT be made a fool of." He glowered at the small boy, intended to set his knees knocking.

"And I am Harry James Potter and I am not a liar," he replied bravely, his fists clenching and his temper blaring.

Severus reflected that the boy did not show wisdom in using his middle name with him, and he fought the urge to slap the child. He certainly showed a lot of courage, he reflected, though at the moment he would take an easily cowed Hufflepuff. But he knew he was frightening at full strength, and this small boy just stood up to him Mastering his emotions, Severus lifted his hand to close the door; causing Harry to flinch. That flinch bothered him, and suddenly made him stop his tirade. Why would the boy flinch from him? He quickly pushed down uncomfortable suspicions.

"Whatever the state of your former domicile," Snape waved their argument off as if he didn't care, "I expect you to unpack, freshen up, and be ready for dinner in one hour. Do you think you can manage that, Harry James Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, confused. He had expected this man to hurt him, berate him, or hit him for his response. The Dursleys would have hit him and locked him in his cupboard for days. He certainly didn't expect to be fed dinner.

"When that clock says six o'clock, come down for dinner," Snape instructed.

Harry was left in this big room, looking around and wondering if this really could be his home. Trying to do what his new guardian had instructed, he quickly packed his few clothes into one of the drawers and put the bag under the big, soft bed. He then fingered the bed, feeling the sheets and stroking the comforter in wonder. Gathering his courage, he crawled up into the bed and did what any boy in such a situation would do - he snuggled in and fell asleep.

Snape went to the boy's room in a temper - how dare he disobey and not come down at six? How dare he force Snape to fetch him like a servant? Snape threw open the door, eyes blazing, to be confronted with Harry fast asleep on his bed. Snape was tempted to let him sleep to learn the lesson of getting up, but when he saw the boy's small frame he relented, knowing he needed his dinner. Whether or not the boy was willing to eat healthy food, he felt morally obligated to offer it.

"You have five minutes to get downstairs or there will be no dinner," he intoned harshly.

Harry, waking with a start, blinked and tried to remember where he was. Then, remembering, he looked at the clock and realized it was ten minutes after he was supposed to have been downstairs.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Harry cried, scrambling from bed.

"You will be if you are tardy again," he barked. "I expect you to be punctual, Mr. Potter."

Harry scrambled to put on his shoes, smooth down his hair, and then stood by his bed, ready. With a sigh for his ragged appearance, Snape led the boy downstairs to the dining room. Harry watched in amazement as they stepped into the dining room, and a small, long-eared creature placed a dish full of vegetables on the table. He gasped in surprise as the creature turned towards them and greeted them, "Good evening Professor Snape, young master Potter."

"Good evening, Treadle," Snape answered civilly. Much to Harry's surprise, he ushered the young boy to a seat at the table, and then seated himself in the other one. Harry could not remember a time he ate at a table with another person instead of in the kitchen while the rest of the family ate.

"Dinner looks adequate," Snape told the creature. "I will ring if you are needed."

"Thank you," Treadle answered, and disappeared with a pop. Harry, starting to get used to strange and unusual things every few minutes, was drawn to the smells coming out of the serving dishes. Food seemed of more import than magic at the moment.

"This will likely not suit your picky appetites," Snape intoned as he placed a napkin on his lap and inspected the dishes. "But it is healthy and adequate."

"I like lots of different foods," Harry answered. "It smells really good."

"You will not find pizza and chicken nuggets here, young man," he growled. "Just good, nutritious foods." With that, Snape dished up a healthy portion of baked chicken, mashed potatoes and buttered peas onto Harry's plate.

Harry, barely believing his luck of getting such a large amount of food, eyed it hungrily. He had learned to eat as much as he could whenever he could, because you never knew when you would be locked in the cupboard for days on end. His stomach rumbled watching the food.

As soon as the plate was placed before him, Harry picked up his fork and began shoveling the food as fast as he could.

"Manners!" Snape rapped out, cuffing Harry on the back of the head. "Are you so greedy as to not even wait until I am served?"

Rubbing his head furiously, Harry swallowed what was in his mouth and then blushed with shame. Obviously he needed to reign in his hunger to show better manners, but he only wished he knew what they were.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, putting his fork down and looking down. He wanted to explain, to say how he never ate at a table with his family, and the only meal he could count on was getting one at school. He had always wolfed that one down as fast as he could. He wanted to explain, but the explanation stuck in his throat.

"You should be," Snape answered, leisurely dishing himself up as he had for Harry, and then picking up his fork. Harry watched him closely, imitating his napkin in his lap and the way he held his fork. He tried to deny his desire to shovel the food in and tried to match the pace at which his new guardian ate. He even took a drink of his milk when the man drank his water.

"Upstairs," the man suddenly growled. "I will not eat dinner with someone who is mocking me!"

"Mocking you?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not, sir! I promise!" Harry was near tears at being denied the ability to finish the dinner he so desperately wanted.

"Do you deny you were imitating every bite and drink I took?" Snape growled. "Upstairs now! I will come speak to you after dinner."

Knowing better than to disobey, Harry hurried upstairs so the man wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. Though he knew he had already consumed more than he got most nights for dinner, he had been so looking forward to actually being full - such a rare thing for him. His tears were desperate, but any words of explanation stuck in his throat. He went up and threw himself on his bed burying his face in the blanket as shame and anger stained his cheeks.

He heard a quiet pop, and suddenly realized that his dinner had appeared on his desk, along with a napkin, fork, knife, and cup of cold milk. Was this a trick to taunt him with what he couldn't have? Deciding he didn't care, he sat down and found that he could indeed eat it, filling his stomach with the warm food. When he had eaten every last pea and sip of milk, he leaned back comfortably. His guardian couldn't be so bad, he reasoned, at least he had let him eat dinner.

Once his stomach was satisfied, Harry then began to think about Snape coming to speak to him after dinner. His stomach began to churn in nervousness at this, was this some sort of code for coming and yelling at him? Kicking him out of his house? Worse? With trepidation, Harry rubbed the back of his head. The cuff had been sharp but not cruel, enough to say that Snape meant business but not enough to bruise. Apparently this wouldn't be like school where the teachers weren't allowed to physically discipline children. This would be more like the Dursleys.

When Harry heard the man come up the stairs his stomach knotted in fear. Even though logically he knew that he had done nothing wrong, he couldn't help but believe that this guardian of his would disagree. He waited nervously.

"I see you've finished your dinner," Snape commented.

"It was very good, thank you," Harry told him.

Snape eyed him suspiciously, but could not fault the answer. "There will be no dessert for you tonight," Snape told him. "Dessert is for boys with good table manners."

Harry blushed, and stammered, "I will try to improve."

"See that you do," Snape turned away, intending to lead the child downstairs, and suddenly Harry panicked. He had to know.

"Sir?" he asked in a high voice. "I have a few questions."

"Ask them, Mr. Potter," Snape sniffed, crossing his arms.

"Where am I? Is this like Narnia where magic is real?"

"Come now, you must know something about magic."

"Well, I have accidently made a few things happen, but I don't know how it happened. Is that magic?"

"Yes, wizard children start showing accidental magic as they grow up. When you are eleven you will go to Hogwarts and there you will learn how to use it properly."

"Until then, am I to live with you?"

"That's the current plan," Snape grimaced.

Harry really wanted to ask about him being the Boy Who Lived, but decided to get some other questions out of the way first before asking one that would make him mad. "What am I to call you, then?" he asked.

"You may call me Professor or Sir," Snape answered. "I do not believe in that silly 'Uncle' title if someone is not actually your uncle."

"Yes, sir." Harry could not think of something he'd least like to call his new guardian than "Uncle."

"And perhaps I should also make a few things clear to you," Snape answered firmly. "I expect you to be well behaved, respectful, honest, and obedient. I will not put up with any sort of showing off and bullying that your father was so famous for. Unlike your hordes of adoring fans, I will actually hold you accountable and punish you if you disobey. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. But sir, I have one more question."

"Just one?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked.

"For now. Why do you think I'm famous?"

"Obviously I will not answer such insulting questions. Really, Mr. Potter, you will have to do better than that. Now, if you are done asking inane, attention-getting questions then you may sit with me for an hour before bedtime."

Harry followed him downstairs, and Snape led him to a sitting room with a roaring fire and a few threadbare, comfy chairs. "There are some children's books on that shelf there," Snape told him. "You may select one to peruse."

Happily, Harry chose one with rich pictures and happily curled up by the fire to look through it. Treadle brought in tea, and Harry eagerly took a cup. He had tasted tea at odd times, such as when he was with Mrs. Figg, and liked it a lot. With few words, Snape poured him a cup of tea and added one lump of sugar and an extra measure of milk.

After they had both settled down with their tea, Snape decided he should talk about the schedule he had been drawing up for his ward. "Mr. Potter, I was thinking about your time here and how it should be spent. Most magical children are homeschooled until Hogwarts, although some with better control are able to attend muggle schools. I think at least until the end of term you should be homeschooled here. Each morning you will wake up at seven, and be bathed and eating breakfast by eight o'clock. We will eat breakfast together, and then I will set you assignments for the morning while I am teaching. After lunch, you may have some time to exercise and amuse yourself in the yard, but you may not leave the property without my express permission. You may not speak to anybody either that you may meet. I will be home after my last class, sometime after 4 pm. We will then have afternoon tea while I review your assignments, and then meet together again for dinner at six. Bedtime is eight, but you may read until eight thirty. Does this sound acceptable to you?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied, sipping the tea. "Do I get to play with other children?"

"I don't know," Snape answered, unsure. "I know a few people with children your age, I could look into that later. I suppose you're used to being driven to soccer and play dates every day, but you will have to make some adjustments here."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, not wanting to argue.

They sat together for a while longer, then Snape sent Harry up to bed. Harry went to bed feeling like this could be a much better place than before, that this could be a place he felt safe and was able to be a normal person. He did not realize how quickly he would be disabused of that notion.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own anything, just having fun. This chapter contains the spanking of a child. This does not endorse endorse the author's views on spanking, it just feels like this is what would have happened.

The next day began in much the same way, with Harry bathing in the largest bathtub he had ever seen, enjoying the warm suds and being able to feel very clean. He slipped into his clothes, tightened the belt to keep the pants on, and was ready to go downstairs. He made his way down to the kitchen, looking around at the pictures on the walls. He had never seen pictures move before, and he couldn't figure out if the people were real or if it was like a movie.

"Good morning, young master," a young shepherdess greeted Harry.

"I'm Harry Potter," he introduced himself.

"Harry Potter! Here, at Spinner's End?" a robed wizard in another picture exclaimed. "Merlin's beard!"

The paintings were whispering to each other excitedly, quickly passing around the information and buzzing excitedly. Why did people know his name? Snape thought he was a celebrity too, and Harry felt strangely that everyone seemed to know more about him than he did. He briefly wondered if this were some sort of reality tv show, but dismissed that idea. Nobody would believe this.

"Talking to your adoring crowds?" a silky, dangerous voice from behind him asked.

"Are they real, sir, or like a movie?" Harry asked him.

"They are real, more or less," Snape answered him. "It's breakfast time."

Harry ate the porridge with gusto, though trying not to wolf it down like before. He ate the toast with jam and fruit too, happy to eat a breakfast he hadn't cooked and he was allowed to eat.

"Today I would like you to read the introductory chapter in three of the first-year books; potions, herbology and the history of magic. I will try and get you some primary school materials as well, but I think that it is never too early to get started on your Hogwarts books. I want a twelve inch essay on each of those introductions."

"Yes, sir."

"I have left you everything you need on the desk in your room. You can commence your work as soon as breakfast is over."

"Will you be gone all day, sir?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, I told you that," Snape replied impatiently. "If you need anything, ask Treadle. He is in charge of looking after you. Now, I need to leave or I will be late."

Snape hurried off, black robes flapping and case in his hand. "Hogwarts, Professor Snape's Laboratory," he announced loudly, throwing down some powder. Harry coughed a bit at the smoke, but then returned to finishing his breakfast. If you had told him two days ago that seeing people disappear into fireplaces was going to become a regular event, he would never have believed it. Now, it seemed so unremarkable that it didn't interrupt him eating toast.

"Get to work on your schoolwork," Treadle barked at him. "I knows the schedule, boy, and Master Snape 'spects me to keep tae it."

Nodding, Harry took the last piece of toast with him and walked up to his room. WIthout the presence of the Professor, the house seemed very quiet. He could hear Treadle grumbling as he cleared the dishes, and he was glad to not be with him all morning.

Harry found a stack of the schoolbooks on a bookshelf above his desk, and he found the three that the professor had told him to start on. Though some of the reading was a bit slow due to large words that he didn't understand, he found that he was able to mostly get through the introduction to the History of Magic. Okay, now to write the essay. Harry had to admit that he didn't really know how to write an essay, but in his class he had been working on writing paragraphs, so maybe it was something like that? Hunting around the desk, Harry couldn't find any notebooks or pens, but he did find stiff, funny-looking paper and feathers. Looking carefully, he saw that the feathers had been cut at the point, and he wondered if this might be for writing like he had seen in old movies. Dipping the feather in the ink, he found that it did hold the ink, but then when he reached it to the paper it didn't seem to work for him at all. The ink smeared and nobody could tell what he was going to write. Frustrated, Harry realized that he didn't even know how to use pens in this place!

Harry thought for a moment, and then remembered that he had a pencil stub in the pants he had worn yesterday, left over from school. He had been in the habit of collecting pencil stubs at school so that he wouldn't have to ask Petunia for more pencils. Hurriedly, he found the stub in his pocket, and began to write the essay. He assumed that twelve inches would be with normal handwriting, so he estimated what he thought looked like twelve inches and then wrote about what he had read in the book. Happy to be succeeding, he did this with each of the other books as well. When he had finished, his stomach growled as he realized that it was time for lunch. Stacking his three essays together and replacing the books on the shelf, he ran downstairs to see what Treadle was cooking for lunch.

Treadle had the table set for him, and Harry eagerly sat down. On his place instead of a sandwich or soup like he was hoping for, there were three large earthworms still wriggling. Harry jumped, backing away, and looked at Treadle. Treadle glared back.

"I knows who you are, Harry Potter," he said, his voice dripping venom. "And I know who you killed. The master said I had to feed you, he did not say what."

"I, I can get my own lunch," Harry bravely told him.

"If I catch ye in mys kitchen, I will beat ye," Treadle told him firmly.

Harry believed him, and realized that he was not going to be getting lunch that day. Though his stomach rumbled, he knew he would be fine. It was a rare day indeed at the Dursleys that he would get three meals a day, so he was very used to making due.

"I will go into the yard, then," Harry told Treadle, backing away as if Treadle was a mad dog. "Professor Snape said to do that."

Harry then explored the yard, his stomach rumbling, wishing there was a vegetable garden or something out there.

When Snape returned that afternoon, he saw that the boy was playing in the yard quietly and smiled to himself. Maybe this was going to work after all.

"Mr. Potter," he called. "Go and fetch your work for me to see."

Harry, startled at the call, scampered inside and up to his room. He was eager for the Professor to see his work, he knew he had been at the top of his class and wanted to show the professor. But when he got to his desk, the essays he had worked so hard on were not in the place he had left them. Panicked, Harry searched the sides and behind the desk, and then looked around for where else they could be. The room answered back, bare and empty, and he knew that they were gone.

"Problems, Potter?" a silky, menacing voice sounded behind him. Whirling, Harry came face to face with a very angry Snape.

"They aren't here . . ." Harry started, gulping in fear.

"So, you decided that my assignments were optional, did you? That you had no reason to respect the work I asked you to do?"

"I did it!" Harry argued frantically. "I did all three! They were right here on my desk!"

"And you expect me to believe that we've been burgled? That someone has made off with your essays and nothing else?"

"I don't know!" Harry yelled back hotly. "This is your house!"

"So, it turns out that you are a lay-about and a liar. Treadle told me you were playing and wasting time instead of working. And Treadle also informs me that you were too picky as to eat any of the lunch he prepared for you."

"Do you know what he made me for lunch?"

"I am sorry it was not up to your exacting standards," Snape replied. He caught Harry's wrist in his hand and pulled Harry's desk chair out with the other one. Seating himself on the chair, he smoothly put Harry between his legs, pulling him over one knee and trapping his legs under the other. He locked the other arm around Harry's waist, holding him firmly. Harry could do nothing to fight back.

"This is the punishment for lying and disobedience in my house," Snape growled at him. "If someone had done this to your father at your age it would have done him a lot of good."

Harry, panicking at what he guessed was about to happen, struggled in Snape's grip and tried to protest. "I did it! I swear! I don't know what happened! Please, don't!" The Dursleys had of course hit him often, leaving him bruised and welted afterwards, but they had never put him over their knee like this. Was this going to be worse?

"This will teach you to respect me!" Snape growled, smacking Harry's backside sharply with his hand. Harry cried out, and soon his protests dissolved into sobs as the Professor's hand smacked his bottom sharply for a total of ten times.

"You will stay in your room the rest of the evening," Snape announced as he released the child. "I expect you to be working on the work I assigned, and I expect it to be done before bed."

Harry hiccupped in response, nodding, trying to get control of his sobs.

"This will happen every time you lie to me, young man," he growled again. "There will be no disobedience in this house. Now get to work."

After the professor left, Harry continued to sob to himself. Curling up on his bed, he rubbed his stinging backside and cried at the unfairness of it all. Oh, where had his essay gone? It must have been Treadle, he decided. The Professor didn't seem the sort to steal his work, and he had been quite upset that Harry hadn't done the work. And Treadle seemed to have it out for him in not feeding him, so apparently he was trying to get Harry in trouble in other ways as well. He didn't have the expectation that adults would believe him or to treat him well, but he had had such hope that this home could be different . . . oh well. He wanted to curl up and sleep again as he had yesterday, but he knew that he had to rewrite those essays. He did not want to risk another spanking. Though, he thought to himself judiciously, it was not as bad as it could have been. True, the professor's hand was as hard and firm as a paddle, but he had in fact not given him an overly harsh punishment. The Dursleys usually left marks on him, he knew this spanking wouldn't. The punishment had been unjust, but not cruel.

Wiping his eyes and trying to resign himself to his work, Harry sat up gently on his sore backside and then gingerly sat down on his desk chair. The sting was already fading, though he would feel it at least a bit for the rest of the evening. Sighing, he pulled out more of the strange paper, found his pencil stub, and began work. Surprised and grateful when a cup of warm tea and a biscuit appeared a short time later, he happily set to his work. Apparently being sent to your room did not mean that you starved.

Snape settled to his tea downstairs more unsettled than he had expected to be. True he had spanked his share of children, usually first year Slytherins; they typically got smart enough not to cross him after that. And he had expected to feel a large amount of satisfaction in spanking this particular child - the spawn of James Potter. And although the idea had sounded good, in reality the child's insistence on his innocence rankled Snape in a way that he didn't understand. And he also had been so upset at being spanked that Snape had actually stopped several swats before he normally would have. Perhaps it was just that the boy was so young, he told himself. Three years before he could even be a first year.

By the time Harry's teacup disappeared and his dinner of pot roast with potatoes and carrots appeared, he was most of the way through his third essay. Because he had already done them once, he found doing them again to be much easier. He even thought the finished essays were much improved over his last ones, and hoped that the Professor would be at least a little impressed with them.

When he finished, he neatly stacked the essays and then looked around for something to do. He was not letting those essays leave his sight until the Professor saw them, and he couldn't leave the room anyway. He figured that he might as well get a jump on the next chapter in his schoolbooks, so he took out the Potions book and began reading.

Around bedtime, a knock on the door proceeded the Professor entering.

"Still doing your reading for your essays?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I finished the essays," Harry explained, motioning to the essays on the desk. "I'm reading ahead."

Snape looked at the essays in surprise, he hadn't expected the child to have enough time to finish them. But there they were, though the words were so slight as to be hardly legible.

"Why did you not use the quill and ink provided to you?" he asked in surprise.

"I couldn't get it to work for me," Harry explained, "I had a pencil stub with me, so I used that."

"I see we need to add quill practice to your list of assignments," Snape observed. "It takes some patience to master, but it is what you'll be using at Hogwarts, so it is good to learn now."

"Yes, sir."

The professor picked up the essays, and read them through quickly. Harry shifted nervously as he did so, hoping that they would impress him. He squirmed a bit more, absently rubbing his bottom a bit as he did so, though the pain was all but gone.

"These are an adequate start," the Professor told him, setting them down again on the table. "But you have very far to go. I expect your penmanship to improve as well, Mr. Potter. It is time now for you to go to bed, I expect you to brush your teeth and then be in bed."

"Good night, sir," Harry told him, trying not to show his disappointment in the Professor's evaluation of his work.

Snape nodded in response, and then closed the door as he left. He had expected the boy to be sulking and uncooperative, but instead he had finished the work set to him and was actually reading ahead. Apparently he had at least done the reading for the essays, even if he hadn't written them. And the work wasn't bad for his age either, he had had worse essays from first years.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Snape informed him that he would be reading the intro to two other books, and to write the alphabet with the quill pen ten times for practice. "You can write your essays in pencil for another day or two," Snape informed him. "But by next week I expect everything in quill."

Harry made sure he had an extra helping of porridge, expecting that he would again be offered something like worms for lunch. He happily sliced bananas and strawberries on top, sprinkled it with sugar, and then ate with gusto. Snape mostly drank coffee and ate his porridge calmly, though he watched Harry eat surreptitiously. That boy sure had an appetite.

Harry cleared his throat, obviously thinking of how to ask a question. "Sir, does Treadle do whatever you ask him?"

"Yes," Snape replied, sipping his tea. "A house elf is bonded to his family, and whoever is the master of that family orders him. By house elf custom, a house elf is compelled to obey the master of the house and may never lie to him."

"So if you tell Treadle to serve me lunch, he has to do that, right?"

"Yes, that is true."

Harry thought for a minute, trying to come up with a food that Treadle couldn't tamper with. "Could you tell him to serve me plain bread for lunch, sir?"

"No," Snape answered, putting down his teacup and rising to leave for work. "You need to eat something more nutritious than just bread. I will see you this afternoon."

The Professor left, and Harry quickly ate the last few bites of his porridge. He was going to have to out-think that house elf if he was going to be able to survive. He was sure it was Treadle who hid his essays, and the house elf wasn't going to feed him properly either. He did not want to get punished again due to that elf's interference. His plan today so far was to eat as big of a breakfast as possible, keep his work in his eyesight at all times, and avoid Treadle as much as possible.

For the most part, Harry's plan worked well. He worked hard that morning with the quill, and was almost able to make legible letters by the end of writing the alphabet ten times. He then thought he'd try again to get some lunch.

"Treadle," he asked, entering the kitchen.

"OUT!" Treadle yelled, brandishing the broom. "You do not come in here!"

"Please, Treadle," Harry asked, dodging the broom. "Can I please have something plain, like bread?"

"Yous will have worms!" Treadle laughed harshly.

"What did I do wrong?" Harry asked, dodging the broom again.

"You killed the Dark Lord!" Treadle yelled. "You caused the Master to change, to become sad, to not know what he wanted. I will never serve you!"

"But you have to obey the Master," Harry argued, and then yelped as the broom made contact with his thigh.

"Out!" he yelled at Harry. "Or I will make you eat the worms!"

Harry wisely left the house elf to his own devices, going out to the yard with his work tucked safely in his pocket. So the direct approach wasn't going to work, he thought to himself, rubbing the bruise on his thigh unconsciously. He hadn't expected it to work, but he wasn't sure how house elves worked, so he would have to manipulate him differently. Or he could just do what he did with the Dursley's; stay out of the way as much as possible and sneak food when he could get it.

The professor looked over his work that afternoon with a wrinkled nose. "Why is your work so wrinkled, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"I wanted to make sure that nothing happened to it," Harry explained.

"So you carried it in your pocket all afternoon?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I knew you would upset if I couldn't find it again," Harry explained, looking down. Was wrinkled homework as bad as missing? Was he going to get punished again? He gulped.

"Tomorrow I expect you to put it somewhere that you will not lose it," the Professor told him, forcing himself to ignore Harry's fear reaction. "And you need to continue working with the quill every day. Your handwriting is atrocious."

"Yes, sir."

"Now that you have read the introductions, I will assign a chapter to read and summarize every day. I have also managed to procure some muggle books, so you can continue in maths and English as well."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, becoming relieved that apparently there was nothing further to be done.

They fell into the routine that they had developed; tea and then dinner. Harry tried very hard to eat properly at dinner, trying to match the Professor's pace but not to appear to mock him. Dinner was a mostly silent affair, but Harry seemed relieved that his eating of the stew and bread was at least somewhat acceptable.

Near the end of dinner, Harry was watching the Professor so closely that he wasn't paying attention and disrupted his nearly empty bowl of stew, splashing on the tablecloth.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry cried out, righting the bowl and looking at the Professor with fear in his eyes. Uncle Vernon would have beaten him for this.

"Mr. Potter!" the Professor cried out in dismay, but then sighed loudly. "I suppose you did not mean to do it. Were you done anyway?"

"Yes, sir," Harry trembled.

"Then we will leave it for Treadle to clean up. I believe that you have actually been respectful enough for dessert this evening; I will have Treadle bring it to the sitting room for us."

Harry followed the Professor into the sitting room, unbelieving, expecting the Professor to commence his punishment. But instead, they sat together in front of the fire, and Treadle brought them both lemon tarts and cups of tea. They sat together in quiet, sipping their tea. Harry had so many questions that he wanted to ask - why had Treadle said he'd killed someone? But he just didn't think he could ask, and this was the first night that he didn't get sent to his room, so he didn't want to risk it.

Suddenly, with a whoosh, someone appeared in the fireplace. Coughing, Snape replied in a droll voice, "Albus, would you like some tea and a lemon tart?"

"That sounds lovely, Severus my boy," Dumbledore replied, stepping out of the fireplace. "I see you and Harry have been getting along quite well here."

"He has managed to avoid catastrophe today," Snape acknowledged as another teacup and another tart appeared on the tray. "One lump or two?"

"Four, thank you," Dumbledore told him, his eyes sparkling. "So tell me, there has been catastrophe?" he seated himself on a chair and settled down comfortably.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Snape sniffed. "You see him here alive and well, Albus, surely you don't think I would endanger the boy."

"Of course not," Albus told him, sipping his syrupy tea. "So, Harry, how are you liking it at Severus's house?"

"It's better than the Dursley's," Harry answered truthfully. He didn't trust Dumbledore enough to tell him about Treadle's cruelty or the Professor spanking him, so he kept neutral.

"I see," Dumbledore answered. "Is the food good? That's so important to a boy your age."

"Yes, it's good," Harry answered, smiling.

"Yes, dear me, dear me," he patted around for something. "I say, Professor Snape, I seem to have forgotten something back at Hogwarts. Do you think you could nip to my office and see if you can find my spectacles? I can't see a thing without them."

"Really, headmaster, if you would like to make an excuse to talk to the boy alone, could you please at least put in more effort?" Snape drawled. "I'm almost insulted."

"Oh, Severus my boy! Then you don't mind me saying I need a half hour with the boy alone then."

"As you wish," he responded sardonically, stepping up to take the floo network. "Do you really need your glasses?"

"They would be nice," Dumbledore answered, eyes twinkling.

With a sigh of resignation, Snape announced, "Hogwarts, Snape's Lab!" and was gone in a flash.

"Now then, my boy, I wanted to talk to you alone."

"It really is better here than at the Dursley's," Harry assured him.

"I see that," Dumbledore sipped his tea. "But tell me, how do you find Professor Snape?"

"He is a little scary," Harry admitted. "He thinks I know a lot of things that I don't know."

"Like what?"

Harry took a sip of tea, wondering if he trusted this man. He had once confided in a teacher at school about his treatment by the Dursley's, and all that happened was a phone call home that made his life miserable for a month. He had to be careful what he said. "Sir, I didn't even know magic was real last week," Harry admitted. "And the Professor acts as if any questions I ask are designed to mock him. I'm not mocking him, I just really don't know. He seems to think that I'm some sort of celebrity and have adoring fans. And when Treadle said that I had killed someone . . ."

"I forget what you don't know," Dumbledore quietly admitted. "Though how you would, I wouldn't know. Your Aunt should have told you more, but even if she had, there is much she doesn't know. All right, Harry, would you like me to tell you about yourself?"

"Of course, sir," Harry replied eagerly.

Dumbledore then outlined Harry's basic story, talking about his parents and how they fought the dark Lord, how they went into hiding with Harry, and how they were betrayed by their best friend Sirius and then killed, his mother dying to protect Harry. "Your scar is a result of the killing curse bouncing off of you and rebounding on Voldemort," Dumbledore explained.

Harry's hand unconsciously went to the scar, believing but disbelieving. Dumbledore went on to explain how everyone knew him in the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived, and he was famous for something that he couldn't even remember. The story told, Dumbledore sat back and sipped his tea again.

"I imagine you have questions," Dumbledore told him.

"More than I can sort out," Harry answered honestly. "Why did I have to live with my Aunt?"

"The spell your mother cast, the one that saved your life and cost hers, was based on a type of blood magic. This is a very old type of magic that has to do with love and relationship that wizards like Voldemort know nothing about," Dumbledore explained. "And that magic continues, even today. Part of making sure you were somewhere protected is that you needed to be with someone who shares your mother's blood. Petunia and Dudley were your only blood relatives."

"So now I'm not protected?"

"There is another that shares a few drops of your mother's blood," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Due to a childhood blood bond ritual."

"The Professor."

"Yes."

"You had said he was friends with my mom."

"Yes, I believe they were very close, starting in early childhood."

"He's made comments about my dad . . ."

"He and your dad were enemies, rivals," Dumbledore explained sadly.

"Is that why he hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Dumbledore answered. "But your relationship is going to be complicated. I think when Professor Snape, when he gets to know who you really are, will become quite fond of you. It just might take longer than usual."

"Do you know why Treadle hates me?"

"Treadle?"

"The house elf. I think he's trying to get me in trouble."

Just then, the floo roared alive, and the Professor stepped out of it.

"Have I given you long enough?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, quite," Dumbledore answered. "And I realize that it is probably time for Harry to go to bed as well."

"Yes it is. Are you able to turn in on your own, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," he answered. "Good night, Professor. Headmaster."

"Good night, my boy," the headmaster replied. "We'll have another talk soon, so save up your questions."

"I will sir."

"And make sure you brush your teeth," the Professor told him.

Harry nodded, leaving the room and heading up. He felt so grateful for that short time with the headmaster, suddenly things made so much more sense. But how could he process how his parents died? How he lived? How he was completely unknowingly a celebrity. He laughed with incredulity that he could be a celebrity when he didn't even own a piece of clothing without a hole in it and worried every day if he would get enough to eat. He fell asleep that night dreaming of his parents and a man dressed all in black.

"Are you shocked by what he's told you?" Severus asked Albus once he was sure that the boy was upstairs.

"I am," Dumbledore replied. "He didn't know anything about his past, his story, or magic. I would have thought Petunia would have told him something at least."

"Do you believe his naivete?" Snape asked, surprised.

"I do," Dumbledore replied simply. "He showed me no guile and seemed relieved to know the truth. I would have thought you could have seen that he was so uninformed, Severus."

"He mostly seems cheeky and insolent to me," Severus snapped. "Did he cry to you about me punishing him?"

"He did not say a word," Dumbledore answered gravely, sipping his tea. "What happened?"

"He was disobedient and lied to me," Snape answered firmly, trying to avoid any hint of defensiveness in his voice. "And I spanked him."

"You spanked him?" Dumbledore asked incredulously. "He's only been here two days!"

"It was not a harsh punishment," Severus replied, unable to stop the defensiveness. "And I said that I would discipline him as I saw fit."

"You did, you did," Albus assured him. "I don't doubt your methods. But a word of advice, Severus. You are a fair man, and I know that you will regret it if you let prejudice blind you. Make sure you have all the facts before metting out justice."

"Of course," he replied stiffly, as if insulted by the very question that he didn't get all the facts first.

"And you get to deal with Minerva about it," Dumbledore smirked. "I won't tell her, but when she finds out it is for you to deal with."

Their talk grew inane, and then Dumbledore excused himself to return home. Snape wondered at himself, being defensive about his treatment of the boy. Did he really worry that he had acted improperly?


	5. Chapter 5

Of course, I do not own these characters and make no money from this. Also, warning, there is a briefly written, non-graphic incidence of physical abuse at the end of the chapter. If that is a problem for you, skip this chapter or skip the last few paragraphs.

The next morning at breakfast, the Professor informed his young charge that he wouldn't be home for dinner.

"Why are you staying late, sir?" Harry asked as politely as he could, barely being able to control the panic in his voice. The more hours alone with Treadle the worse it was, plus that meant he wouldn't get dinner either.

"Don't worry, child, I'll be home by bedtime and check your work then," Snape told him, wondering about the anxiety clearly written on his face. His tone gentled in response to the boy's anxiety without him even thinking about it. "You can have your dinner with Treadle, if you like, or even in your room if you'd rather."

"Will you be at Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I will be," the Professor answered. "And if any problems should arise Treadle can get ahold of me."

"Is there a way for me to get ahold of you directly, sir?" Harry asked, hoping it sounded innocent.

"Treadle should suffice," Snape answered. "I will see you tonight, Mr. Potter. If the meeting goes well, we might be able to share a cup of tea before bed."

Severus found himself mildly surprised at Harry's seeming attachment to him, he didn't understand why it made any difference at all to the boy whether or not he was home. Did the boy actually like him? Dumbledore had said something about him wanting attachment and affection to grow between the two of them. Could this be what was happening? _I know about rules and schedules, _he thought to himself. _But nothing about this sort of thing._

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "I will not go into work tomorrow."

"That will be great, sir," Harry answered, genuinely happy. One day he wouldn't have to deal with Treadle.

Snape sipped his tea, surprised. He wondered if when he had been that age if he would have been as excited to spend the weekend with his Potions Master. Maybe it was better than the house elf, he reasoned. Maybe he should try to do something fun with the boy, he mused, like an outing or teaching him a potion or something. But he didn't want to indulge the boy too much and set him up up for high expectations.

Harry ate as much at breakfast as he could manage without throwing up, knowing full well that it was likely that this would likely be the only food that he would get today. He was glad a few bits of ham appeared with breakfast, meat would stick longer in his stomach.

The day went by much like the previous one had, although Harry noticed an improvement with his quill work. He thought that by next week he might start being able to write his essays with his quill, which would be good because he had very little of his pencil left. He struggled at what to do with his essays to keep them safe, but he couldn't think of what to do that wouldn't wrinkle them. He finally hid them in his dresser under his clothes, hoping that Treadle did not have the magic to locate them. He had gotten stuck on the math problems that the Professor had set for him, and made a note to ask for help to finish up the problems. Nobody had taught him yet about how to add different fractions, and he couldn't figure it out from the book.

Harry went to spend time wandering around the yard again that afternoon without even asking for lunch, but decided to sneak back in and check on his papers. He saw Treadle in the kitchen, and as quietly as possible made his way back up to his bedroom without being seen. His heart thumped as he went to peer in his drawer - was it there? Quietly he opened the drawer, and then saw that his drawer held only clothes. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he pictured himself upended over the Professor's knee as soon as he got home. It wasn't fair! He looked forward to having a whole day tomorrow where he didn't have to worry about Treadle and that he could eat all his meals.

Well, the rational part of his mind thought, Treadle wouldn't think of stealing it twice. So, he opened his books again and swiftly went to work on repeating his homework. This time he held it in his coat, thinking that the wrinkling was better than the absence of homework.

By tea time that afternoon, he did not expect a cup of tea since the Professor wasn't going to be there. However, a cup of hot tea did appear on his desk, and Harry looked at it suspiciously. Would Treadle try to poison him? He sniffed the tea, not detecting any smell, and stirred it to see the milk swirl in. Tentatively he put a drop on his tongue, and then spit it out. Treadle had salted his tea. He inspected the biscuit by the cup with no intention of trying it, and found the bottom of it soaked with what smelled like dishwashing detergent. With a sigh, he pushed it away, his stomach grumbling. Wanly, he looked out his window and wondered if there would be a way to sneak something for dinner. He couldn't wait until after bedtime, as he had at the Dursley's, the Professor would be here and he would rather starve than be caught by him getting a midnight meal.

He began to think about television shows that he had seen through the vent in his cupboard. Sometimes people would create a diversion to be able to sneak into some place. What would cause Treadle a diversion? He thought and thought, wondering what would keep the elf distracted. Maybe creating a mess? What mess could he do without causing damage? He decided on toothpaste, and he tried to make it look natural. As if his toothpaste would have just exploded all over his sink. He squirted the toothpaste all over, hoping that would be sufficient.

Harry called out, "Treadle! Can you help me?"

Treadle appeared with a pop! and Harry looked at him.

"I don't know how it happened," Harry lied to the elf. "I think it was what Professor Snape called accidental magic."

"Out of my way," Treadle growled, pushing past Harry. Harry, taking this as his cue, swiftly headed downstairs to see if he could pocket some food. He grabbed several slices of bread and an apple out of the bowl, and then turned to race out of the kitchen. But he was brought up sharply with a cry of surprise. There, in the doorway, was a very angry Treadle holding a long stick in his hand. Harry gulped in fear; he had been caught.

"You dare steal!" the house elf yelled. "Treadle knew yous bad!"

Even though the house elf was several inches shorter than Harry, his barrel chest and strong demeanor scared him. And Harry saw that stick with a gulp. Dropping the apple in haste, Harry made to dart out of the way, and the stick began to rain down on his back and shoulders. Crying out in pain and shielding his face, he looked around desperately for a way out or somewhere he could hide. With the pain of the stick lashing his back, he couldn't think. Then he saw the fireplace, and thought desperately if he could just floo and get away . . . Dropping the bread, he made a dive for the fireplace. Grabbing some of the floo powder he did what he had seen the Professor do every morning, announcing "Hogwarts, Professor Snape's lab!" as he threw the powder down.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry found himself dumped out of the fireplace at the other end, a billow of soot and his limbs scattering. The stripes of pain on his back and arms stung badly, and he cried out as he rolled against the rough floorboards of the potions laboratory. He then felt rough hands pick him up and shake him, causing him to cry out as they clenched against stripes on his arms.

"What are you doing here?" the Professor demanded. "Is there an emergency?"

"No emergency," Harry cried, trying to get control of himself. What could he possibly say that would make sense?

"Are you here as a prank? Did you get bored?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, but was unable to explain further.

"You will tell me right now why you are here or I will bend you over my knee for a sound spanking," the Professor threatened, shaking him.

Harry found himself unable to answer, his teeth chattering in fear and pain from the beating that Treadle had given him. With an impatient growl from the Professor, Harry felt himself being nearly lifted off the ground as Snape took him over to his chair, where he was bent over his knee in much the fashion that he had before when Snape had spanked him.

"You will learn not to play around with the floo," the Professor growled. "It is dangerous for a young wizard, and you did not have my permission to use it. And you will learn to answer questions when I ask as well."

Harry, beyond where he could vocalize, fought like a trapped beast against the steady and sure grip of the Professor. Snape held him firmly, adjusting his position to begin his spanking in earnest. Before the first smack fell, however, Snape saw something that stopped him cold. In the struggle, Harry's shirt had ridden up his back, and across his lower back there were several unmistakable angry red weals. He saw some dark smudges against the shirt as well, probably blood. Snape's blood ran cold when he realized what had happened. The boy had been beaten.

The Professor placed the child back on his feet, and ordered, "Take off your shirt, child."

"Why?" Harry cried, barely able to respond.

"Now," the Professor answered firmly, but tried to gentle his voice. Harry took off his shirt carefully, hissing as his shirt stuck to his back in places where the skin had been broken. Snape winced in sympathy; that boy had been beaten cruelly by someone wielding a switch or thin rod. Snape knew from experience what those marks looked like.

"I want the truth," Snape gently told him. "You are not in trouble. Who wielded that stick?"

"Treadle," Harry answered, not really trusting Snape but desperate that he might be believed. Anything to get him out of this situation. Snape's gentle voice helped him be able to talk.

"Why?"

"He caught me trying to sneak food," Harry blushed, thinking that may just earn him another spanking, but not sure what else to say.

"Were you impatient for dinner?"

Harry decided to throw all caution to the wind and tell the truth, consequences be damned. The professor actually seemed to be listening.

"He doesn't feed me when you're not there," Harry told him.

"He has to do what I've ordered," Snape replied flatly.

"Well, he serves me worms or rotten food or something like that. Today I had salted tea and dishwashing soap on a biscuit."

"Why does he do such things?"

"When I asked him, he said that I had killed the dark Lord and made you confused and sad," Harry answered. "I'm sorry sir if I did do that, I was so young I didn't mean to do it."

Snape rubbed his face in disbelief, and then really looked at the boy for the first time. What he saw started to intensify the shame that was rising in him. The boy wore clothes that were unreasonably baggy and threadbare, and seemed to have no better clothes. He was thin and peaked, though Snape had to admit he didn't seem the least bit picky about his food when Snape ate with him. He also had the dark hollows under his eyes that showed deprivation and starvation. And as Snape inspected his chest, he saw ribs that were far too prominent, sallow skin that spoke of nutritional deficits, and the whispers of bruises and marks from years past. He couldn't believe that he had missed all the clues that were right before him. With deep chagrin, he realized how his hate for James Potter had prejudiced him against his son, and had caused him to treat him poorly. He began to see all of the interactions he had had with Harry over the past few days from the perspective of an abused boy, and felt deep shame in how he'd handled them. He of all people should have been able to recognize Harry as an abused child, and all he saw was how much the boy looked like his father. How would he have liked being treated as a child based upon someone disliking his father? What a fool he'd been.

Harry, mistaking the stern inspection from the Professor, squirmed under it. "Please don't spank me again, sir," he asked, his voice trembling. "I'm very sorry for taking the floo and for sneaking food. It was all I could think to do to get away from Treadle. Please sir, it hurt so much when he was hitting me. Look, I have my work," he picked up pages that had fallen out of his coat when he came through the floo. "I did it twice so I would still have a copy when Treadle stole the other one."

_Oh Merlin_, Snape blanched. _I spanked him unjustly as well. I'm going to have to apologize to bloody James Potter's son. _ Shaking himself, he said, "I'm not going to spank you for this," Snape told him. "First, you should have been fed properly. Secondly, you were merely trying to get away from someone hurting you. Now, are there any marks on you that are covered by your trousers?"

"No," Harry answered, evaluating. "I think they're mainly on my back and arms."

"All right, I want you to go into the next room and lay down on your stomach on the leather couch there. I'm going to fetch a potion and salve that will make you feel better." Then, thinking about what Harry had said, he asked, "Have you eaten today since breakfast?"

"No, sir," Harry admitted.

"I will have some food brought as well, then. Go lay down, Mr. Potter."

Harry obeyed, taken aback by Snape's care of him. He had thought that Treadle had acted under the Professor's orders, so why was Snape going to make him feel better? He lay on the couch, his bare skin feeling the cool leather. He had disregarded the pain of the beating in his efforts to escape it, but now he felt it fully. His back and arms sang with the fiery sting of the stick that had been applied to him, and he found tears forming in the back of his eyes.

A few minutes later, Snape came into the room with a tray in his hand. "Drink this," he ordered, handing him a small vial of purplish liquid.

Harry obeyed, squinting against the taste, but found his body instantly loosening as the pain lessened. He laid his head down on the couch then, feeling drowsy and loose. The tears subsided, and he relaxed into the couch.

"I'm going to wash the welts and then apply a salve," the Professor told him gently, transforming his large raggedy pants into pajama bottoms. "The potion should take care of most of the pain, but it will still hurt a little. Let me know if it hurts more than you can stand, and I'll give you a bit more potion."

Harry nodded, and felt the Professor as he began his work. Though it did hurt him enough to hiss on certain weals, for the most part he just lay down and let the professor work, turning his body as he needed to access different parts. Then, after it was washed, the Professor applied a healing salve which cooled and numbed the weals. As he lay down with his back finished, Harry was actually starting to feel almost pain-free.

There was a knock at the door, and Snape said, "Just in time," as he went to answer it. He ushered in a house elf, which caused Harry to start a little. She carried a tray, though, that had a sandwich and a bowl of soup on it. Harry could smell the soup, causing his mouth to water at the thought of it. Hadn't the Professor promised food?

"Can you sit up?" the Professor asked him as the house elf put down the food.

Nodding, Harry pulled himself up with a wince. _Apparently not entirely pain-free;_ Harry told himself, _but at least he could eat!_ He filled his stomach eagerly with the warm tomato soup and the ham and cheese sandwich. At first, he was just in the euphoria of eating. But then he noticed the professor talking quietly to the house elf.

"My house elf Treadle is being dismissed due to negligence and abuse of my ward, part of his bonded family," the professor quietly told her. "Dumbledore told me that you have been serving at Hogwarts since the last of your family died out in the war, is that true?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"I am in need of a house elf's services. Dumbledore said you would be a good fit for what I need. Would you like to work for me?"

"Yes sir!" she replied, brightening. "I like a real family so much!"

"Would you like to be paid or bonded?"

"Bonded," she replied without hesitation. "I want the security.'

"All right," the Professor took her hand in his, and reciting a charm with his wand, and thin rope of silver appeared, tying their hands together.

"I, Maisie, swear to serve and protect you and yours," the house elf said solemnly. "I will be loyal and true, obedient and selfless, and help you to the best of my ability."

"I, Severus Snape on behalf of me and my descendants, swear to protect and shelter you and your descendants, provide for your needs, and treat you fairly."

The silver rope between them glowed brightly, then disappeared.

"Maisie, this is my ward, Harry Potter," Snape introduced, turning towards the couch.

"You's hurt, young master."

"Treadle did that," the Professor told her. "After he starved the poor boy."

Maisie's eyes opened wide in shock, and she took a concerned step towards the boy. "I will take care of you right," she told him. "Maisie raised many a small boy, she has."

"Dumbledore said you were good with children," the Professor noted. "All right, I have a few things to do to finalize some things, and I will be back in about a half hour. Maisie, can you watch after the young master until then?"

"I will," she promised.

"Call me by floo if you need anything or if he's having pain. I'll return shortly."

Harry found himself left in the care of the sweet Maisie, who he guessed was probably older as far as house elves go, but very maternal. She found Harry a soft pillow to put his head on and a very soft blanket that she could drape on him that wouldn't hurt his welts. She charmed the blanket to be warm, and he snuggled in carefully. She had whisked away his tray, and then patted his head as she tucked him in, tsking over his injuries and cooing softly. Though it did make him feel a bit like a baby he enjoyed being fussed over as well. She was going to be a great replacement for Treadle.

Harry wondered about the Professor. He looked so severe and stern sometimes, but he was definitely very unhappy that Harry had been hurt so. Instead of sneering and saying that the boy had deserved such treatment, he had talked to him gently and then healed his sores. The Dursleys would have just sneered at him and locked him in the cupboard for a few days at least, they would not have helped him. In fact, they had applied stripes like that a few times themselves, especially after he had done the freaky stuff. Could he hope that Snape would be a safe person? He could handle the spanking that Snape gave him, it hadn't actually been that bad, so if Treadle was gone now maybe things would be okay.

Snape returned, his eyes snapping and his heart pounding at the errand that he had performed. His heart softened, however, when he saw the boy wrapped up, warm and fed. Maisie sat beside him reading to him from a book. She smiled as Snape walked in, though he saw that Harry stiffened. With chagrin, he knew that he deserved that. This child did not see him as stern but fair, the reputation he had built with his students; but rather as dangerous and unpredictable. And he only had himself to blame.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked, his voice neutral.

"Much better," Harry replied carefully. "The medicine worked really well."

"Mr. Potter," Snape began, trying to seem calm and safe. "I am a man that rarely apologizes, and tries very hard to avoid that which needs apology. But I owe you an apology." Harry began to speak, but Snape held up a hand. "Let me say everything, child, and then you can ask questions. I wanted to fix a few things before I apologized, but now is the time. I think you know that I was not excited to become your guardian, and assumed you would be much like your father. You look like him, and I took that to mean that you would act like them. I also assumed that you would have been pampered and coddled by your relatives, and I think that assumption was false as well, correct?"

Harry nodded, looking down, and whispered, "Yes sir. They hated me."

Snape just nodded simply. "And instead of recognizing you as an abused, neglected boy I assumed you to be manipulative and lazy. So I did not listen to you, and instead chose to discipline you how I assumed you deserved. You did do that homework, didn't you? You weren't lying."

"I wasn't lying," Harry nodded.

"I apologize for spanking you. It was undeserved, and not well done by me. And my house elf also starved and attacked you, and I want to apologize for that as well. I should have been paying closer attention. In addition to my apology, I would like to give you some promises too. First, I promise to never spank you or otherwise discipline you until you feel that I have listened to you adequately. Ideally, you would think you deserve punishment as much as I do, but even if you don't you should feel that you have a fair hearing. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Harry replied, barely believing. "Sir."

"Secondly, I have dismissed Treadle for his abuse of you and hired Maisy to look after you and the house from now on. But, even given her better nature, I promise to ascertain facts from you directly instead of relying on her. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thirdly, Dumbledore has told me that you do not know much about the wizarding world and your own history. Every evening over dinner and perhaps even during our tea time I will attempt to educate you for the new world you now live in. I would like you to think about and prepare questions for that time, and I will also think of topics that you may not have thought about yet."

"Thank you sir."

"Now, the last thing," Snape said, his voice gentle but firm. "Is a promise we make to each other. We need to promise not to lie to each other. Harry, when there's things I cannot tell you I will tell you so, but I promise never to lie to you. For you as well, if there's things you cannot tell me you need to be honest about it. But what you do say; let it be the truth. I will promise to be better at listening, but you also need to talk."

"I promise," Harry replied, touched that Snape had used his first name.

"Questions?"

"I have a few," Harry admitted. "First, well, will you ever spank me like Treadle did?"

"No, never," Snape told him firmly. "A spanking is a controlled punishment to change a behavior. What Treadle did was a violent beating. A spanking will probably be with my hand or maybe a ruler. But I promise that it will not really damage you, and you won't have a mark on you an hour later. When I spanked you that one time it was unjust, but was it too bad?"

"No," Harry answered truthfully, remembering. "It hurt, but it wasn't that bad. And if I had really not done my work and lied to you, I think that spanking would have been okay. I was actually surprised that it wasn't worse."

"That's what a spanking should be. It is a sharp reminder that you have done something wrong, not damaging. I am sorry that you've experienced abuse from what I assume was probably your relatives and then in my own house. Treadle did not have my authorization to even touch you, let alone hurt you like this. He has paid for what he did."

"What happened to him?"

Snape set his mouth in a thin line. Well, he had promised the truth. "I administered to him exactly the beating he gave you, every stripe and every welt. He was then dismissed and given clothes, which for a house elf in a good family is an extremely severe punishment. Only death would be considered worse, and some elves wouldn't even consider death worse. Nobody else will take him in that has children, for he cannot lie to them about how he lost his last position. And he doesn't have the disposition to wheedle his way in anywhere. He will probably end up washing dishes in Knockturn alley."

"I almost feel sorry for him."

"Don't," Snape told him firmly. "Harry, he deserved it. I can't believe he had the audacity to touch my ward, part of his bonded family, like that. He took the same vow as Maisie did just now, he promised to serve and protect me and mine. It is a big betrayal."

Harry's heart warmed at his talking about him like that. It was almost like saying that Harry was a part of his family. He realized just how much he wanted that.

"I like it when you call me Harry," he ventured.

Snape looked at him, his eyes softening. How did this child wheedle his way into his heart so easily? He was a former death eater, the feared potions master, the bat of the dungeons. And this boy liked him calling him Harry.

"Well, Harry, if such a small thing makes you happy I will endeavor to do it more often. Now, I believe that that pain medication should be making you sleepy enough for an early bedtime tonight. We have all day together tomorrow, so let's save further questions until then. I don't want to move you and disturb those cuts and welts healing, or they might scar. We're going to sleep here tonight." Snape transformed the couch into a soft bed so carefully that Harry hardly moved at all.

"I will be in the next room where my bed is located. Maisie, would you sleep by him and wake me if he has any problems during the night?"

"Of course," she answered, patting her patient affectionately, pulling up his blanket to under his chin.

"Good night, Harry," he told him, and then left the room.

"Good night, sir," he heard the whispered reply. And neither of them could remember being told good night like that before.


	7. Chapter 7

My thanks to JK Rowling and her wonderful characters that I'm borrowing.

The next day Harry awoke and it took him a few minutes to realize where he was. When he realized where he was, all of the thoughts and feelings from last night came flooding back in a rush, making him cringe. But, surprisingly, his shoulders and back had only the merest twinge of pain to remind him of Treadle's beating. The treatment that the Professor had given him had really worked.

"So you're awake," he heard the Professor announce from across the room. "How are your injuries?"

"I can barely feel them, sir," Harry replied, experimentally moving his arms. "Whatever you gave me worked really well."

"Well, take off your shirt and let me have a look."

The boy's back was healing well, Snape thought to himself. The places where the skin had been broken could use a little more salve, though. Snape hastily accio'd the jar of salve and dabbed it gently on the worse of the welts. "That should do it," Snape told him. "It's good you will be healed for our shopping trip today."

"We're going shopping?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Yes, you obviously need new clothes," Snape told him. "I was thinking we could maybe do your shopping and have lunch out."

Harry could barely contain his excitement, even as Snape glared at him and reminded him that he needed a full breakfast before they went. Imagine being told that he had to eat! Harry could never remember being told that in his life. He did fill his stomach, but at the promise of getting to eat lunch he did not stuff himself beyond what was comfortable. He could hardly believe that he was going to eat lunch out, he had never done that before.

Snape looked over Harry's clothes with a sigh, the boy looked like he was dressed as a hobo for Halloween, even with Snape's best efforts at shrinking the clothes. Oh well, easily remedied. But it would also not due for the boy to be recognized. Though the wizarding world would not know what he looked like necessarily, the scar might give him away. And he did look like the bloody carbon copy of his father too, for anybody that was more perceptive than most.

Snape took out his wand, mumbling a few words quietly and touching Harry's head. The scar disappeared, his hair grew lighter, and his face changed enough to make him unrecognizable. Snape smiled, he thought that the new Harry looked more like Lily.

"I don't want people to know who you are," Snape explained. "It would not do for people to know you're back in the wizarding world at this time."

"Why not?"

"Well, I think Dumbledore explained a little," Snape told him. "But it's not autograph-seekers that I'm worried about, it's people who served the dark Lord. Killing you would be a great feather in the cap of any of them."

Harry sobered, and suddenly his porridge did not look as appetizing. "People want to kill me?"

"That is why we practice extreme caution at all times," Snape told him briskly. "And part of why Dumbledore put you with me. The blood wards protect you, but I am also a formidable protection myself. And my properties are well warded as well, which is why you are not allowed off of them without me."

"Thank you, sir," Harry whispered.

"So when we are there I can't call you Harry Potter. You will be my cousin's son, Harold Baker, come to stay for a time. I have altered your looks enough so you will not be recognized. I will trust you to remember that."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Very well. We are going by floo again. I want you to go first, say clearly 'Diagon Alley' and then throw the powder like before. And then step out of the floo as soon as you can, I will be right behind you."

The first several times Harry travelled by floo were much worse. The first, with the sudden and unexpected jerk, made him want to vomit. The last time it was escaping a sadistic house elf, and he'd been more worried about his own skin. Harry thought this last attempt to be almost successful, as he had almost been able to remain standing, and he had remembered to get out of the way before the professor came quickly behind him.

"The clothes shop first," Snape announced, marching briskly in the right direction. Then, thinking better, he looked back at the boy who looked around dazed. _Of course this is his first trip here, _Snape realized. _It's going to be overwhelming_. Making the decision out of necessity more than affection, Snape went back to the boy and took his hand. Harry, marveling at the idea of touching someone like that, looked up at the professor in wonder.

"I don't want to lose you," he explained brusquely. "Try to keep up."

Harry felt like he was practically running to keep up with the professor's quick steps, and he followed him out of the pub and into the busy street ahead of him. Harry clung to the hand tightly, but looked around at the wonders that surrounded him. He had never seen so many people in brightly colored robes and hats, and every shop window seemed to hold a new wonder. And holding the Professor's hand like this - someone could almost think he was his dad. Snape impatiently led him into the clothes shop, which had only one other family there, a family with a plump, red-haired mother and a swarm of red-headed children.

"Professor Snape!" the woman greeted warmly. "How good to see you!"

"Mrs. Weasley," Snape replied. "I see you have your brood with you?"

"Just four of the boys," she replied with a smile. "They seem to wear out their clothes so fast. So I brought them over from Hogwarts to get a few things before summer. I believe you have Percy in your classes?"

"Mr. Weasley," Snape acknowledged.

"And you will have Fred and George next year," she introduced. "Boys, this is Professor Snape; he will be your potions master."

The boys grinned at him in a cheeky manner, bobbing their heads, and Snape knew he would have his work cut out for him with those two.

"But who is that with you?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"This is Harold Baker, my nephew," Snape introduced.

"But you are an only child, Severus," Mrs. Weasley answered, suddenly suspicious.

Sighing, Snape knew better than to try and mislead Mrs. Weasley. She was far too clever to be put off with a story, but he also didn't want to announce his business to her brood and everyone else in the store. And, to be honest, he could also use her help. He felt a little lost to know what a boy needed.

"Harold is the son of my cousin. I think you knew her in school, her name was Lily."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes got large, and looked at Harry with more scrutiny. Snape continued, "His mother died when he was quite young, and his previous guardians are now also gone. So his guardianship has now fallen to me quite unexpectedly."

Mrs. Weasley looked from the boy to the potions master critically, sizing them up. "You are eight, aren't you?" Mrs. Weasley asked Harry.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied cautiously.

"Then you need to meet my Ron, he's your same age. Ron? Come and meet Harold."

Ron shyly peeked out from behind his mom, but then brightened when he met the smile of the darker-haired boy. Harry instantly became more comfortable, here was a person who could actually be a friend. He had never really had one before, a few of the kids had been nice at school but eventually they were always scared off by Dudley.

"I could use your help, Molly," Snape told her reluctantly. "Most of Harold's possessions are unfortunately destroyed, and I really do not know what to buy the child."

"Leave that to me," Molly told him, her eyes flashing. "Just let me know your budget and we'll go from there."

Harry let Snape and Ron's mom talk with the shopkeeper, and he turned his attention onto Ron.

"Are you getting new clothes today?" Harry asked him.

"Just underwear," Ron confided. "Mostly I get hand me downs from the brothers. Are you really living with Snape?"

"It's just been a few days," Harry told him.

"My brothers say he's evil," Ron confided. "You're lucky he hasn't chopped you up for potion ingredients."

"Evil and with excellent hearing," Snape interrupted him, glaring at the young redhead.

"Sorry, sir," Ron mumbled, edging away from him.

"Harry is far too skinny for proper potion ingredients," Snape told him with a glare. "But you look nice and healthy."

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, his face flushing a dark red.

"You know how boys talk," Molly laughed. "Ron, Professor Snape is a Hogwarts professor and has Professor Dumbledore's full support. He was a, er, compatriot of your father's and mine during the war. Do not believe everything your brothers tell you."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, sobered.

"He's actually pretty nice," Harry assured Ron. "I have a whole room to myself, and we have tea and biscuits every afternoon."

"If you say so, mate," Ron replied.

"I have an excellent idea," Molly told him. "After you get Harry, er, Harold settled in, why don't you two come to Sunday dinner tomorrow night? It would do the boy good to have some time with Ron."

"That is a very kind invitation," Snape replied, and knowing that it really would be in Harry's best interest, he replied, "And we accept. What time would you like us to come?"

The next hour passed in relative peace, with Molly helping Snape pick out different clothes and a brief measuring by the store staff, and soon Harry had a whole wardrobe's worth of clothes. And not only new clothes but socks, shoes, and a warm jacket. Harry could never remember having anything new, let alone every bit of clothes he owned. Snape had insisted that he change into a pair of jeans and a sweater that had been bought, and put his old clothes in the trash bin at the store. Harry left it there with relish, it felt so much better to have clothes that actually fit him and he could move in without fearing they'd fall off.

"We must be going, we are meeting Arthur for lunch," Molly told him. "But you should also go to the bookstore and the sporting good store, if all his belongings were destroyed he'll need more than just clothes."

"That is a good suggestion. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Weasley."

"We will see you tomorrow at four," she smiled back.

When they were gone, Harry felt like it suddenly got so much quieter. He saw the professor take the packages full of his clothes and shrink them down to fit in his pocket. He was going to stop being surprised at some point, he promised himself.

"We should go to the barber," Snape observed, "But I think that for another time. Let's go to the bookstore next."

"Ron seemed very nice," Harry said, taking the Professor's hand eagerly.

"Yes, I suspect he is," Snape grudgingly told him. "The Weasleys are a good family. They have six boys and the youngest, I believe, is a girl. He is a good first friend for you here."

In the bookstore Snape picked up several muggle school books that he had ordered, and urged Harry to pick out a few children's books to read on his own. Harry spent a lot of time selecting, but then finally ended up with a book about a teenage werewolf hunter and another one where the main character was a young wizard off to school for the first time. He thought that might give him a better idea of what to expect at school.

With those books shrunk and put away, they then went to the sporting goods store. Snape had it in mind to buy the boy a few balls or other recreational equipment, but then Harry saw the brooms. His eyes lit up in a way that Snape had not seen yet, and he looked at the posters of people flying with eager anticipation.

"Can I do that?" Harry asked in wonder.

"You can when you're older," Snape explained. "But I think they might have a training model, a broom that doesn't travel more than five feet off the ground as well as some other safety features. Here it is, a Safesweep 16. It's meant for wizards your age."

"It's very expensive," Harry's face fell, looking at the price tag.

"Not as expensive as the one you'll want at eleven," Snape grimaced. "But we'll consider it a late Christmas gift, shall we? Now then, I also wanted a few other recreational items . . ."

Harry could hardly believe his luck as Snape chose safety gear for riding the broom as well as some balls to play with. He could hardly believe this was all real, and he found himself getting teary eyed looking at the broom. Snape saw the boy's emotions, and quickly took him to the back of the store with private changing rooms for trying on the sports gear. He would be mortified to cry in front of people, and assumed the boy would be too. He quickly cast a muffling charm.

"Are you ill, child?" he asked anxiously. "Was this too much for you?"

"You said, it was, was a Christmas gift," Harry told him, tears forming. The lump in his throat was so hard to talk around. He just kept thinking of those families he saw on television, those families where presents were given. And hugs, he had never really been hugged before.

"Yes, I thought that would be a nice way of looking at it."

"I don't, I don't, . . ." Harry couldn't get it out. Snape handed him his handkerchief and tried patting him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"I don't get Christmas gifts," Harry blurted out, and then turned and buried his face in the professor's chest. He expected Snape to push him away, but he prayed that he would be allowed to be held by the professor. He didn't dare meet his eye, but he wanted to be held by the man so badly. Snape froze for a second at the unexpected touch, but then began to pat the boy's back softly.

"There, there," he told the sobbing child. "Not every family makes a big fuss of the holidays."

"Dudley got thirty-seven gifts for Christmas," Harry sobbed. "I got a new scrubbing brush for the toilet."

Snape now rubbed Harry's back, trying to soothe him. He knew what that hot bite of jealousy and being snubbed felt like to a child, and he realized that he would have sobbed the same way as a child. _Damn Petunia,_ he thought, _Those muggles tortured the boy._

"You are my ward now," Snape told him firmly. "And you will get presents like any other child. Now try and calm down, Harry, and we can go and get some lunch."

"Lunch out?" he asked in disbelief. He didn't believe that he would still get such an amazing treat after he had cried and whined like this.

"Yes, lunch out," Snape replied. "If you are done now?"

"Sorry I cried on you," Harry told him, not meeting his eyes. "I've, I've never done that before." He was torn between how embarrassed he had felt at his outpouring of emotions and how good it felt that Snape had held him during it.

_Neither have I_, Snape replied silently, then replied verbally, "It's quite all right, you were distraught." With a flick of his wand, his robes were again clean and they made their way out of the dressing room. As soon as they emerged, Snape ran directly into the person he was most hoping to avoid with his new ward; Lucius Malfoy.

"Good day to you, Severus," he called out with his aristocratic tone. "Who do you have with you there?"

"My new ward, Harold Baker," Snape explained. "He's the son of my cousin."

"I don't remember a Baker in the Prince line . . ." Lucius trailed off.

"It was the other side," Snape replied, trying to appear disdainful. _Please, let Harry be quiet,_ he prayed.

"I see," Lucius replied, realizing how sensitive Snape was about his muggle relatives. He looked the boy over closely and smirked. "I see, and not well behaved either if he's coming out of a muffled dressing room with tears in his eyes," Lucius observed. "I see you are quick to spank your ward, Severus?"

"A child should always have proper discipline," Snape replied, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing softly, trying to communicate for him to be quiet. "And he'll learn to be quiet if he doesn't want another spanking." He hoped that communicated what he wanted it to. Harry just looked at the two men with wide eyes, his hand unconsciously covering his bottom and confirming Lucius' suspicions.

"Is Draco eight now?" Snape asked, calculating. "Harold will be nine this summer."

"He's just nine," his father replied. "But they'll be the same year in school. Perhaps they should meet at some point."

"That would be nice," Snape replied. "I really do have to go now, but owl me later."

They walked out of the shop quietly, and Snape did not speak until they were well away from Lucius.

"You did well," he told the boy.

"Please don't spank me," Harry quietly begged. "I'm sorry whatever I did wrong."

"You did nothing wrong, foolish child," he told him. "DIdn't I promise you that I wouldn't spank you unless you clearly deserved it? But you did well to follow my lead. Lucius is highly suspicious and unfortunately very perceptive. If anyone besides Molly could guess who you were, it would be him."

"He scared me," Harry whispered.

"He should," Snape confirmed. "He's exactly who we're trying to keep you away from."

They ate lunch at a small cafe on diagon alley with a rooftop terrace. Harry had never been able to order food for himself before, and felt something at a loss. Snape had told him of his intention of ordering roast chicken and a salad, but Harry decided at the last minute to have a cheeseburger. He wondered if Ron would be able to order with effortless ease, or if all kids his age were overwhelmed with it.

"Do you like pumpkin juice?" the Professor asked him as they ordered.

"Urrrr," Harry answered, not sure.

"Bring him a pumpkin juice and me a small pot of Earl Grey," Snape told the waitress. When she left, he looked at the boy and said, "Pumpkin juice is a favorite here, and maybe next time we'll try butterbeer for you."

"Is that like regular beer?" Harry asked, his eyes opened wide. He warmed at the idea that there would be a next time.

"No, it's like root beer," Snape answered with a smirk. "I would hardly be suggesting alcohol to an eight year old."

When they brought the food, Harry's eyes grew large at the size of the hamburger. Surely nobody could eat one so large! He gave it a valiant effort, and only stopped when Snape growled at him about not making himself sick. It was so odd to have someone worry about what he was eating, Harry reflected. I wonder if that is what having a father would be like.


	8. Chapter 8

These wonderful characters belong to JK Rowling, I do not make any money off of writing these. Warning, there is spanking in this chapter.

Once home, Snape insisted on putting away all of the purchases before Harry could try out his new broom. Maisy clucked at Harry as he threw the new clothes in his drawer, and went behind him to straighten the drawers properly. He could not believe that Snape would spend the whole day with him - it felt like having a family. He did not want to waste one minute.

Snape met him holding a broom of his own, it had been one that his since his school days. He hadn't been on it for so long he was afraid he would be a bit rusty. Why do something as silly as take a broom when you could floo or apparate?

"Come along, Harry," he told him when he saw him. "I will get you started before I have to work this afternoon."

"You have work this afternoon?" Harry felt his heart sink in disappointment.

"I have papers to grade," Snape told him, but mistaking Harry's disappointment added, "But you may continue on the broom if I deem you competent."

They went out to the back lawn, and Snape laid down Harry's broom next to him, and then did the same for his. "The first step," Snape demonstrated, "Is to put your hand out over the broom, and confidently say, 'Up' to it."

"Up!" Harry commanded, and the broom shot into his hand. Snape blinked in surprise, he had never seen a child do it on the first time, let alone a child so young. Harry smiled happily, something about this felt so right.

"All right," Snape continued, acting non-plussed, "Now sit astride the broom like this. You kick off from the ground, and direct the broom upwards."

Harry followed the example, and soon found himself in the air, much to his delight. This was definitely something that he understood. This felt natural - unlike the quills and parchment, and unlike all the other things he had done. This felt right.

"Now look at the edge of the property," Snape told him. "The broom will not be able to penetrate the wards, but you also don't want to run into them. The broom also won't allow you more than five feet off the ground. Let's try an easy lap around the yard."

Harry followed as Snape led him around, with Harry trying the broom experimentally. He felt the play in how he steered it, and found where his feet could rest comfortably. By the second lap, he darted out in front of Snape confidently.

"Don't be cheeky," Snape told him, but not harshly. "Let's see what you can do. Carefully, now."

Harry darted away from Snape, turning sharp corners and seeing how close to the ground he could get on it. He didn't look back as he quickly learned to go upside down and looped around. Snape watched in fascination, he had never seen someone take to a broom so quickly. And he knew for a fact that this was Harry's first time on one as well. Goodness, at this rate he would qualify for seeker his first year at Hogwarts! And here he thought he was going to be coaching the boy through the basics of using a broom. He would be better than most kids his age within a fortnight.

"I will let you continue to play," Snape told him, completely nonchalantly. "I'll call you in at tea time."

Harry barely noticed when Snape returned to the house, so entranced was he in his new broom. Before an hour had passed the broom felt as if it were almost part of his body, and he began to chafe at the limit of five feet on it. He dreamed of soaring over the treetops on this broom, and being able to travel anywhere . . .

The sight of a white puppy just beyond the wards brought him back to reality. What was the puppy doing? He could hear the startled yip of the puppy, and his cries of distress. Worried, Harry quickly flew to the part of the yard closest to the puppy. His broom slowed in approaching the wards, and then stopped just shy of where Harry knew the invisible boundary rose. He could see the puppy better now too, and his collar had somehow gotten caught on the branches of a bush. The puppy was in some distress, his collar choked him and he was not able to pull free.

"What's wrong, little fellow?" Harry asked softly. "Did you get caught?"

The puppy saw Harry and wagged his tail, his cries turning to whimpers as he seemed to bed Harry to help him. Dismounting from his broom, he walked towards the wards with his hands out. Could he slip past the wards just long enough to help the cute little thing? He wondered. As the puppy's cries became more distressed, he decided to try. He walked up to the boundary, and felt the resistance that it gave. But he found that it was resistance and not a wall, and that he was able to penetrate it if he pushed on it. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he pushed against the wards and they reluctantly gave way. As his body entered the barrier he felt the pressure from all sides, which seemed to drag at him as he emerged to the other side. He had just popped free of the barrier when he felt a hard hand on his shoulder jerk him roughly back through the barrier. With a cry of surprise, he found himself safely within the wards and looking up at a quietly angry Professor Snape.

"The puppy . . ." Harry began, and then looking at the puppy realized that it had disappeared. Not even the collar that had caught on the branches remained.

"I will have a look around," Snape told him in a controlled, tight-lipped voice. "But you will go to your room and await me there."

Gulping, Harry realized that he had just broken what the Professor had deemed a very important rule - he had went beyond the wards. His face paled in fear. "Professor . . ." he began, pleading coming into his voice.

"Go now, and we will talk when my temper is calmer," Snape told him firmly. "I do not think either of us want to talk before then."

Harry, suddenly even more frightened, fled to the house and did not stop until he was in his room. Pulling the blankets over his head, he waited for Snape to come up and the hammer to fall. Would he be sent away? Would the Professor beat him? Would he lose his broom? Tears began to leak out as he imagined his Professor yelling, berating, and finally beating him. Would he break his broom? Tell Dumbledore that he was done with him?

Snape in the meantime looked carefully around the scene. He believed Harry that there had been a puppy, and he was able to detect the trace of magic being done in the vicinity. But who would know that the boy was here to lure him away? Why had Harry been so foolish? He felt uncomfortable not knowing who could be stalking the boy.

His temper had calmed down considerably as he mounted the steps to Harry's bedroom. His mind turned over the possibilities of who it could be - had Lucius suspected? Had someone overheard and understood his clues to Molly? It was too much of a coincidence that this happened on the day he went to Diagon Alley.

Snape entered the room where Harry waited for him and suddenly remembered why he was there. He was going to have to spank the lad. His stomach sank as it came back to him that he would have to, but he knew he didn't have a choice. It didn't matter how much he had been enjoying the boy the last few days, or the fact that he knew the boy's disobedience hadn't been malicious. The boy had to obey him, for his own safety. Otherwise he would be too easily lured away.

The thoughts of what could have happened strengthened Snape's resolve, and he scowled as he silently entered the room. He knew that his silence would speak loudly at this time, and he strode over to Harry's desk chair, turned it around, and sat expectantly upon it. Harry peeked out from under the covers from which he was hiding, looking at the stern face of the Professor looking at him. Snape saw that the boy's face was already tracked with tears, and his heart twisted just a little bit more at that. Harry had expected Snape to grab him and spank him like he had last time, but instead Snape sat there at waited. It was disconcerting.

"I, I'm sorry," Harry whispered to him.

"I know," Snape answered seriously.

"There really was a puppy there."

"I believe you," Snape told him. "Obviously a ruse to get you past the wards. And it worked."

"How did you know I had done it?"

"The wards alert me instantly when there's any disruption," Snape explained.

"What would have happened to me?"

"I don't know," Snape answered him soberly. "But whomever it was that attempted to lure you away wasn't there to buy you ice cream."

Harry gulped, suddenly realizing how close he had come to actually being hurt. His stomach twisted in fear, and fear of someone lying in wait for him was worse than the fear of the spanking that was imminent.

"Are you going to, you know . . .?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes, I'm going to spank you," Snape told him seriously. "But I wanted to give you a chance to be heard first." _Unlike last time_, he added silently.

"I didn't know," Harry told him, his eyes pooling with tears again. "I just saw a puppy that needed help. I thought I could pop out and right back in."

"Did you not think why a puppy would be stuck there? So conveniently waiting for you to rescue?"

"No, sir," Harry whispered, feeling foolish.

"What could you have done instead?"

"Gotten a long stick?" Harry asked.

"You could have gotten me, child," Snape told him. "I am here to help you. It would have taken just a moment to get me."

"I'm not used to asking for help," Harry admitted, sniffing.

"I know that too," Snape told him. "But you need to learn, Harry, for both our sakes."

Harry waited, and it seemed like the lecture was over. He still huddled under the blanket, waiting. Would Snape use his belt? Wait, he had said that he wouldn't . . . Harry froze, and blinked. The waiting was getting difficult.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry asked him suddenly.

"I'm waiting for you," Snape told him. "I'm waiting for you to accept your punishment and put yourself over my lap."

"What if I don't?"

"I will wait until you are ready," Snape told him. "But it will happen."

They waited, Harry sweating. He wanted it over, but he had never submitted to a punishment before. Usually he was either fighting back, running away, or trying to endure it. He didn't even know if he could accept it.

"I don't want to be spanked," Harry told him quietly.

"I know, child," Snape answered softly. "I wouldn't if I were you either. But I want you to accept that what you did was wrong. You knew this would be the consequence. And I don't really want to spank you either, but I am going to do it if it means you stay safe."

Harry thought about that, seeing his punishment in a whole new light. Snape really didn't want to spank him? This was to keep him safe, not to let the adult vent his frustration? But he had to admit it made sense, he could have been in serious trouble today with that puppy, he had made it so someone could hurt him. Snape wanted to keep him safe, to keep him away from the ones who could hurt him. That made him feel warm inside, but also trepedatious. It would hurt, he knew that it would.

"With your hand?" he asked.

"Yes," Snape replied. "Although if this happens again it will be with the ruler."

Harry squirmed, but was somewhat relieved. He could do this. Snape had spanked him before, and though it had hurt it was not that bad. _If I had just went to him when he first said to it would be over by now, _he chided himself.

Slowly, Harry emerged from the blankets and went over to stand beside Snape. Snape did nothing to force him, and Harry bent over his lap. Snape, touched by the boy's trust, helped him position himself over his lap. _This boy will be a Griffindor, _he told himself. _He is very brave. _Snape had not expected Harry to be able to submit to his punishment this quickly at all, or if at all. He just had tried to let the child feel that he had some sense of control over the process to try and make it easier for him. He did not pin the child down like last time, but instead let him lay himself down.

"I'm ready, professor," Harry told him.

Snape then began the spanking, aiming firm swats on the curve of his bottom. As it proceeded, Harry squirmed, kicked involuntarily and cried out, but held himself in place and did not try and get away. He also did not beg Snape to stop, he knew he deserved every swat. He gripped Snape's robes tightly, as if holding on for his life. Snape's heart jumped a little at each blow, though the thought of Harry in Lucius' clutches steeled him enough to administer a proper spanking. With the last two swats laid down extra hard for a total of fifteen, Snape waited until Harry was able to compose himself. He patted the child's back awkwardly, and waited for the child to right himself. Surely it hadn't hurt that much, he thought, becoming concerned at Harry's sobbing.

"Why did I spank you, Harry?" Snape asked quietly.

"I, I disobeyed you."

"And?"

"I went beyond the wards," Harry sobbed. "I could have been hurt."

"And I trust this won't happen again?"

"I promise!" Harry assured him.

"You are forgiven," Snape told him, patting his back. "It's all over now."

"Do you hate me?" Harry choked out, not really believing he had been brave enough to say it. But it was easier when he wasn't looking on the man, and he hoped his position would at least elicit some sympathy. "Do I have to leave now?"

"I don't hate you," Snape told him truthfully. "And you don't have to leave. I would be a pretty poor guardian if I kicked out my ward at the first sign of trouble. You've been punished Harry, and the matter is over."

Harry, feeling better, pushed himself up off of Snape's lap, rubbing his bottom woefully. He looked up at Snape with such a mournful, whipped-dog look that Snape could not help but reach out to him and pat his shoulder. Harry, taking this as an invitation, turned into the man's chest and hugged him. Being careful of his tender backside, Snape sighed as he brought the boy onto his lap for a proper cuddle. Snape had never cuddled a child like this, nor barely remembered himself being cuddled as a child, but found that the boy fit neatly on his lap with his arms around him. He felt the boy sniffing and his breath hitching, trying to get himself under control.

"I really am sorry," Harry told him, pushing away, embarrassed. He was not used to being cuddled, and as much as he wanted it he felt guilty that Snape would have to do it.

"I think you can stay in with me the rest of the afternoon," Snape told him. "You can read if you want, or do anything quiet."

"Are you taking my broom away?"

"I think you've been punished enough," Snape told him, patting his shoulder softly. "You can use it again tomorrow before we go to the Weasley's for dinner."

"Thank you, sir," he told Snape quietly. He recognized the mercy the man was giving him.

"Of course, child," he told him.

They worked together for the rest of the afternoon, Harry reading one of the novels that he had gotten on their shopping trip and Snape grading papers. The sting in Harry's bottom faded quickly, and it was all but gone by the time that Maisie brought in the tea. When Snape poured the tea, he saw that it was hot chocolate instead of tea. Looking at the tea tray, he realized that his favorite biscuits were also not put on the tray in lieu of ones dipped in chocolate as Harry preferred.

"What is this?" he asked Maisy, confused.

"I heard what you did," Maisy replied, her eyes flashing. "Poor boy, spanked so hard. Maisy gives him special treats."

"But what about my tea?" Snape asked.

"Treats for Harry, not for you," she answered sharply, glaring at him and then disapparating with a pop! sound. Harry looked worried, but then when he saw Snape trying hard not to laugh he smiled too.

"Well, I suppose chocolate won't kill me," Snape said philosophically. "I hate to correct the little thing when she is doing what I wanted and being protective of you, even against me. But to forgo my tea . . ."

"I'll go get it for you," Harry promised, grinning. "I'll tell her what I did to deserve the spanking, and that should work. I don't think she'd like that I put myself in danger. Or maybe I should just say that I prefer tea?"

"I would appreciate that," Snape told him, and caught himself almost starting to smile. Him? The bat of the dungeons? Smiling? He grimaced as Harry went off to find Maisie.


	9. Chapter 9

I still do not own any of these characters and don't make any money off of writing this. :) I also just wanted to say before this chapter how much I have always loved Molly Weasley.

The next day Harry found himself flying around the property again, thinking about the broom that he was flying on. It was so hard to believe that Snape had bought him something like this that was only for his pleasure - and not for anything else. He almost felt as if he was entering a television show - suddenly he could do things like have presents and a bedroom and normal meals.

But what if Snape wanted something in return? the thought struck him. What if he was lulling him into a false sense of security just to make it worse when he rejected him? But he hadn't started that way, Harry told himself. The first few days Snape was very hard on him, not believing him and punishing him unjustly. _But he still fed me and gave me a room,_ Harry thought to himself. _And he sent away Treadle too for hurting me._

Lost in thought, Harry wasn't watching and suddenly heard a crash and found himself thrown from his broom. Pain blossomed across his bottom, upper thigh and one shoulder as he crashed to the ground.

Tears stung his eyes as he picked himself up, painfully brushing himself off. He felt faint as he found a stick embedded in his bottom, and he pulled it out. Blood leaked out, dripping down his leg and making him feel sick to his stomach. He realized that he needed to go into the house and get cleaned up, but he also realized that if the Professor thought that he was careless on his broom he might forbid his flying. He had also had a lot of practice taking care of his own injuries, his Aunt would get angry if she had to do anything to take care of him.

Harry, collecting his broom and heading inside, slipped upstairs as quietly as he could. Quickly shedding his shredded clothes, he ran the sink full of warm water. He had to change the water several times in washing off the blood, and he couldn't even reach parts on his back and on his shoulder. But it was the one puncture on his buttocks slowed to an ooze, but didn't stop bleeding. Harry took one of his old shirts and folded it, placing it in his underwear to absorb the trickle. He painfully changed clothes, but afterwards felt as if Snape couldn't tell that he had been thrown from his broom.

"Harry? Are you up there?" heard Snape call.

"I'm here," Harry called back.

"Time to go," Snape called up to him.

"Coming," Harry answered, with one more look in the mirror as if to assure himself that he looked fine. He was also anxious about seeing Ron again, he had never really had a friend before. And the red headed boy came with a whole family of people to know!

Harry grimaced when Snape put his hand on his shoulder to guide him to the floo, but Snape didn't notice and soon they were in the burrow. Harry gazed out into the chaos that was the burrow. Everything was a bit cluttered and a bit worn, but Harry was instantly entranced by the atmosphere. Warm smells emerged from the kitchen, and the twins were tossing a ball back and forth in the main room.

"Mum! They're here!" one of the boys called out.

"Welcome!" Mrs. Weasley called out to them. "Come through!"

Harry walked into the room, hardly believing where he was.

"Welcome, Professor Snape," what Harry assumed was Mr. Weasley greeted them. "And this is Harold?"

"Yes," Snape pushed him gently into the main room. "He often goes by Harry."

Harry, suddenly shy, put himself behind the Professor, peeking out.

"It's okay, Harry," Mr. Weasley told him. "Come and sit down and have some tea and biscuits. They boys have been out playing and are hungry, I'll bet you are too."

Harry followed the Professor over to the table, where a pot of hot chocolate and tea waited for them. The other boys sat at the table, and Snape encouraged Harry to sit on the long bench by the table. Not thinking about his injuries, Harry sat down and flinched, cringing.

"Severus Snape!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out. "Why did that boy flinch when he sat down?"

"What are you accusing me of, Madame?" Snape growled.

"Have you beaten the boy?" she angrily ground out.

"He was spanked yesterday," Snape admitted defensively. "But that could not possibly be what is causing him pain . . ."

"How dare you abuse that child?" she accused. "If he is still that sore then you beat him!"

Snape ignored her and looked sharply at Harry, and Harry got the uncomfortable feeling that Snape could almost read his mind.

"A few well-deserved swats on the seat of his trousers aren't the cause of his distress, madame," Snape told her firmly in his best potions master's voice. "And for that, I do appreciate anybody that is protective of my ward, although a cynical man might ask where you were for the past seven years. I do not hold your rash conclusions and accusations against you. I will hold it against you, however, if these ludicrous and prejudiced accusations continue to interfere with my ability to diagnose and treat whatever is wrong with my ward. Is that clear?" And then, without even seeing her shocked nod of acceptance, he turned to Arthur and said, "Arthur, I assume I can have use of your study."

"Of course," Arthur answered. "Please come in right here."

"I'll bring the medical kit," Mrs. Weasley meekly said, going to the kitchen and fetching the kit.

Snape led Harry into the office, and Harry grew more and more pale in fear. Tears began tracking down his face before the door even closed behind him.

"What is wrong, child?" Snape asked him firmly as they entered the study.

"I'm okay," Harry told him, mumbling.

"You have ten seconds to tell me before I run a diagnostic spell," Snape told him levelly, his eyes flashing.

"My broom," Harry mumbled. "I fell off my broom."

"Where is the pain?" Snape asked him briskly.

"My shoulder, my back, the backs of my legs, and, well, my bottom."

"Take off your shirt," Snape had him start.

Wincing, Harry took off his shirt. He knew it was over, and he began praying for mercy. His shirt stuck to his shoulder as it came off, causing Harry to cry out.

"Take this," Snape offered him a potion vial taken from Molly's kit. "It will help with the pain."

Harry obeyed, wincing at the taste, but then felt the pain reduce in a flood of warmth throughout his body. He suddenly was able to hold himself loosely instead of tensely. He closed his eyes as Snape examined his shoulder and back. Unbeknownst to Harry, Snape performed a diagnostic spell on him, and saw that his shoulder was damaged but not broken.

"Lay down on the couch, Harry," Snape directed.

Harry obeyed silently, and soon he felt Snape washing his back and shoulder carefully. Harry hissed as Snape removed bits of bark from his back, and then smooth a salve over all of the injuries. He knew where else there was injuries, but also knew how embarrassing that would be.

"I need you to take off your trousers and bend over the desk, Harry," Snape told him.

"Please no!" Harry told him, panicking. He had known he was going to be punished, but suddenly he felt as if his lungs couldn't breathe.

"It's going to be all right, Harry," Snape told him, realizing where his panic was coming from. Although how a child his age should know the implications to that position clearly indited his previous caregivers. "I ran a spell and know you have a deep puncture there, and I need to be able to see it well to heal it, child. This is not a punishment."

Harry, somewhat reassured but still mortified, glanced at Molly. Understanding his hesitance but realizing that Snape might need an assistant, she looked away as he slowly unbuckled his belt and painfully bent over the desk. Snape gently removed the folded shirt, now soaked with blood, and applied pressure on the puncture. Molly whistled lowly as she handed him a bowl of warm water and a rag. Snape cleaned the area thoroughly, and even though his fingers were gentle and sure Harry silently wept as he did it. Snape breathed a sigh of relief when he found that there was no branch left in the deep puncture wound, but the abrasions were dirty and contaminated. By the time that Snape had them all cleaned out and applied salve to all of the wounds, Harry had forgotten the embarrassment and was just waiting for it to be over. Snape muttered some healing spells, and the worst of the wounds healed themselves.

"Pull up your trousers, Harry," the Professor told him, wiping the last of the salve off of his fingers. "You're as healed as you can get right now."

Harry obeyed, and then turned to face the Professor with his eyes on his shoes. He knew he had lied, and that he would now be in a lot of trouble. _It was nice of him to heal me before he spanks me, _Harry thought to himself.

"I am very disappointed in you for lying to me," Snape told him, knowing now was the time to deal with the misbehavior. "But I wonder if you had never been told that you must tell your guardian if you are injured."

"My Aunt didn't like it when I got hurt," Harry admitted. "I tried my best to take care of it myself."

"You were adequate on the broom," Snape sighed, changing the subject away from those accursed muggles. "I am surprised you fell off."

"Well," Harry admitted, wanting to tell the truth. Maybe that would help make up for how much he had lied in the last few days. "I got distracted."

"With what?"

"With thinking about you," Harry answered, blushing. "I was thinking about how it felt like I was in a television show."

"How is that?" Snape asked, confused.

"Well, you feed me every single meal," Harry answered. "And tea times too! You've even told me to eat sometimes, as if I wouldn't want to. And you've bought me clothes that fit me. And you've given me a room all to myself, and you care about my schoolwork and even my handwriting." Harry's voice got quiet then. "And you also hug me."

"I see," Snape replied gravely, starting to understand.

"And I was pretending just for a minute what it would be like to have a father," Harry added, almost whispering. "But don't worry, sir, I know that you're not really my father."

"I see, that would distract me too," Snape told him. "Would you like a hug now?"

Harry eagerly collapsed against Snape, letting the man engulf him in his arms. Both of them relished the feeling of the hug, and both of them were starting to relax and get more used to the idea of hugging in general.

"You still need to punish me," Harry told him, pushing away and wiping his eyes. "I lied to you."

"Yes, that's true," Snape told him. "I told you that I would punish you every time you lied. And if you ever try to hide another injury from me I will use the ruler, and it will hurt. But for today I think you've had enough pain and a gentle reminder will suffice."

Snape turned Harry carefully, cognizant of his sore shoulder, and gave him a gentle swat on his bottom. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Now let that be a lesson to you, young man," Snape intoned. "Pay attention to what you're doing and don't fall off your broom again. And if you do hurt yourself, tell me right away. Now go off and get your tea, I want to talk to Mrs. Weasley."

With a smile of belief bordering on disbelief, Harry left the room and closed the door behind him. Snape watched him go, close the door, and then watched the door. He didn't have the courage to look at Molly Weasley, who sat silently behind him. He was fine with her thinking of him as the strict disciplinarian or the competent spy. Her seeing him comfort the boy made him squirm.

"I'm so sorry I misjudged you," Molly said, her voice sounding as if she'd been crying. "You are very good with him."

"It is quite all right," Snape replied briskly, trying to hid the depth of his emotions. "I do appreciate your protection of my ward."

They were silent, both knowing there was more to say.

"We have never been friends," Snape told her carefully. "Though allies of a sort, even if you mostly didn't know the work I did."

"Dumbledore has told us what you did in the war."

Snape grimaced, he liked doing his work in secret. But in this case it was probably good that they knew. "I need your help," he said simply, still looking at the door. "I want to meet with you, your husband, and Dumbledore this evening, perhaps at 9 pm if that suits. We should probably include McGonagall as well."

"What do you need from us?" Molly asked, almost afraid to ask.

"Someone is trying to kill Harry."


	10. Chapter 10

As always, I am not JKR and I do not own any of this.

Note to anonymous commenter: I wanted to apologize to the commenter that took the time to leave me such kind words that I accidently deleted in the process of deleting someone who was truly obnoxious in their comments.

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Harry went out to the main room, and saw a chaotic scene in which teacups were being passed, cakes eaten, and general noise dominating. He looked around, not quite sure what he should be doing.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley greeted him. "Chocolate or tea?"

"Um, chocolate," he replied, thinking that most kids would probably prefer it. He didn't want to seem strange in front of the others.

"Here you go," he handed him a cup. "Grab some biscuits before they're gone."

Harry sipped the chocolate, finding it sweet and strong, and slipped a cookie off the plate as quietly as he could. He could not believe the ruckus with the others, and most of all he couldn't believe that Mr. Weasley seemed not to mind.

"Are you a Cannons man, Baker?" one of the twins asked him.

"Umm . . ." Harry replied, not sure how to answer.

"Quidditch, man!" the other twin chimed in. "We need to know where you stand!"

"What's Quidditch?" Harry asked, flummoxed.

The boys thought that he was kidding, and so they laughed, slapping their thighs and repeating, "What's Quidditch? Good one, Baker. Hey, did you get a chocolate biscuit before Percy quaffed them all?"

Harry laughed along with them, not sure why it was funny, but liking being part of the group. He had never felt like this before, as if he were accepted and part of the group. And, for the first time in the room, he had the best clothes on. These boys could look at him and not know there was any difference between him and any other boy.

"Are you really _his_ ward?" one of the twins asked. "You have to live with the greasy git?"

"Professor Snape is now my guardian," Harry answered, torn between feeling loyal to his guardian and wanting the boys to like him. "It's actually been pretty good."

"I hear he's really a vampire," Ron said, a little fear in his voice. "Harry, have you actually seen him eat any normal food?"

"Of course," Harry giggled, trying to picture Snape sucking someone's blood. "That's ridiculous."

"Snape is a good professor, though very strict," Percy chimed in, sniffing. "Fred and George, you will meet your match with that one."

"The day a teacher thinks he's our match will be his downfall," Fred and George said together, smiling evil grins. "But really, potions is one of our favorite topics."

"After all," George added. "What do you think is the secret to our success?"

"You will have more success if you become serious at Hogwarts," Percy intoned. "You will find the professors not as forgiving as mum is to your antics."

"I cannot wait to get there!" one of the twins answered. "This having mum as a teacher is getting so old. She hardly jumps at our pranks any more."

"What about you, Harry?" the other twin asked. "I would bet having the bat as a guardian really bites."

"He is strict," Harry answered. "But I'm getting better with the quill pen thing."

"Where were you before him?" Percy asked, suddenly suspicious. "You sound like you were raised by muggles or something."

"I was," Harry admitted. "By my aunt and uncle. They died, and apparently Snape was my Godfather. So here I am."

"So this is all new to you?" Ron asked. "Wicked."

"I really wished I knew more," Harry confessed.

"Is that why Snape beat you?" Ron asked carefully.

"He didn't beat me," Harry flushed. "I fell off my broom this afternoon and didn't tell him about it. I had a bloody big stab on my bum from a branch. He healed me though, so I'm mostly better."

"You have your own broom?" Ron squeaked.

"It's a Safesweep 16," Harry answered.

"You fell off a Safesweep?" George laughed. "What were you doing on it? They're supposed to be for babies."

"Really?" Harry asked. "I've had a lot of fun on mine. I mean, it can't go fast or high, but you can still twirl and fly like a corkscrew and stuff."

"You can corkscrew on a broom?" Fred demanded. "When did you learn to fly? Weren't you raised by muggles?"

"Snape bought me the broom yesterday," Harry admitted. "So I'm no expert. But it's lots of fun."

"We need to get this lad on a broom!" George announced.

Harry found himself jostled outside, and handed a broom that felt a lot different than his Safesweep. This broom was larger and heavier, and he swung his leg over with anticipation. He was about to ask about safety gear, but the other boys flew up without it, so he followed. This broom easily cleared five feet, and he could tell that it could go a lot faster too. He flew around a bit, testing how it responded to him.

"Let's see a corkscrew, then," George called out.

Gaining speed, Harry tipped it over into a loose corkscrew. He righted the broom, already feeling that this broom could do so much more. Laughing, he took the broom into a dive, looped around, and then pulled up sharply.

"Bloody hell," he heard Fred cry out as Harry sped around him, looping over him easily. "He's a Quidditch prodigy."

"What is Quidditch?" Harry asked, pulling his broom to a halt and catching his breath. He couldn't help the huge smile plastered on his face.

"It is a game played on brooms," Percy primly replied. "We have a set of practice balls, shall we have a bit of a game?"

After conversing with Molly and Arthur, Snape looked out the window of the burrow expecting to see Harry playing with the other boys. But when he saw Harry diving after a snitch, full speed and with no protective gear on his body, Snape found himself racing out, his wand drawn. _That fool child, _he growled to himself. _He's going to break his bloody neck!_

Instead of having to cast a cushioning charm or worse, levitate a battered child into the house, he saw the lad pull up on the broom just before it struck the ground and scoop up the small practice snitch in his hand. The other boys cheered wildly, and Harry did a celebratory corkscrew going straight up.

"What is going on here?" he demanded loudly, crossing his arms and glaring at the boys.

Harry, his stomach suddenly dropping and his mouth going dry, quickly pulled the broom down and landed just in front of the Professor. Gulping, he dismounted the broom and hung his head. "They were teaching me Quidditch, sir," he answered softly.

"Unless you want to stand during dinner you will cease trying to break your neck," Snape growled at him, his eyes flashing. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered.

"It's our fault," Fred said, landing next to Harry. "We got him on the broom."

"And Professor," George chimed in. "You didn't tell us he was a bloody prodigy!"

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Snape chided. "And yes, Mr. Baker does seem to possess some innate talent on the broom. However, he is far too young to be flying on a full-sized broom and without safety gear."

"I'm sorry," Harry told him, still looking down.

Snape saw his contrition and his anger softened. He had been thinking about punishment, and now he found himself thinking just a stern warning would suffice. Obviously, being reprimanded in front of his new friends should be punishment enough, he thought to himself.

"As well you should be," he told Harry firmly. "And there will be no more flying today."

"Yes, sir," he replied, tears forming in his eyes. What was going to happen next? He shuddered to guess.

"Next time you can bring your own broom and safety gear when you play with your friends," Snape told him firmly. "But for now I think it's time for everyone to wash up for dinner."

Harry could hardly believe his luck at not getting smacked in front of his new friends. He felt deeply grateful that the Professor had shown him that mercy, though he knew his carelessness would inevitably lead to his punishment when he got home. And in Snape's scolding there was much to hope for too - he had all but promised that he could come back and visit these boys and play on the brooms again. He could hardly believe his luck. Even if it cost a spanking with a ruler it would be worth it.

Dinner was more of the exciting chaos, but Harry found himself more accustomed to it. He happily grabbed a slice of bread as the basket went by and asked for more when Molly served him roasted chicken and vegetables. Snape watched him as interacted with the Weasleys, and realized that this was the most relaxed that he'd ever seen the boy. Frowning, he began to wonder if this wouldn't be a better place for the boy to grow up. _The blood wards,_ he reminded himself, _It had to be him._ But he also found a strange reluctance for Harry to leave as well, though he scowled and tried to stuff that emotion down. He also pushed down that part of him that realized what that emotion meant.

_I have enough to think about without all of that,_ he told himself firmly. _I need to figure out where this threat is coming from, and how to neutralize it. And, _he added, _I need to figure out how to phrase the beginning of the story about his guardianship that was going to prevent McGonagall from transfiguring him into a cockroach._


	11. Chapter 11

As always, I do not own the recognizable characters and I make no money.

Upon arrival home, Snape quickly put a tired and slightly sticky Harry to bed. He grimaced at the signs of the sticky toffee pudding that graced the boy's face, but figured that it would be better dealt with by his morning bath than a half-asleep child trying to stay awake enough to bathe himself. Snape had had to reassure the child several times that he wasn't mad about the brooms and that his behavior had been mostly acceptable at the Weasley's house, and then his eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Taking one extra second to tousle the child's unruly hair, Snape shook himself and set himself to leave. He needed to focus on the issue at hand, he told himself. He needed to protect Harry, that was more important than anything else.

The gathering happened as he had planned, and they all met in Dumbledore's office at 9 pm. As the floo roared to admit Molly and Arthur, Snape looked around the room. _Hmm_, he thought. _We might need more people_.

"Thank you for coming," he formally greeted the couple.

"Now what on earth is going on?" Minerva asked. "All this dramatic meeting and secrecy, is it really necessary? The war has been over for seven years."

"The war is not over," Snape replied with clipped words. "At least not for everyone involved. I believe Harry to be a target for kidnapping, possibly murder. I need your help as members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Explain what has been happening," Dumbledore encouraged. "Everyone, take a seat. We must know everything, Severus, even things that you do not think important. Do not gloss over any detail, and tell us what you have observed in the past week with your ward."

Snape nodded, feeling somewhat like Dumbledore was interviewing him after some mishap at the school when he was a child. But he felt somewhat comforted by Dumbledore clearly demonstrating his control of the situation, even though he would never have admitted that. Taking a deep breath and decided to just tell the non-adjusted truth, he related all of the events that had transpired since Harry had come home with him up until the time he left him sleeping at his house. By the time his tale ended Dumbledore had called for tea and poured everyone a cup, though the cups lay largely untouched by the recipients so entranced were they in the story. He purposely did not look at Minerva, telling himself that he did not want to be distracted by feeling like he had to defend himself.

"And that brings us to this meeting," Snape ended, taking his cup of tea. "And why I need your help."

"The evidence of a stray puppy and a child falling off their broom seems very scant," Dumbledore began. "But in all your time as a spy I've never known your instincts to be wrong. We need to take this extremely seriously."

"Such a sweet boy," Molly mused, saddened.

"There are many disturbing things in your tale," Dumbledore continued, lost in thought himself.

"Several," McGonagall agreed, glaring at Snape.

"But the most disturbing of which is why did Treadle attack Harry?"

"Who knows the ways of house elves?" Snape asked wearily. "I think he thought Harry had wronged me in some way. I don't know, it wasn't clear to me. All that was clear is that that elf had to go."

"Did you ever get any other sense from him?"

"You know that Legilimency does not work on non-humans," Snape told him.

"We will discuss other details later," McGonagall agreed. "But Albus is right, there is something very odd about that. And could Treadle have told someone about Harry's whereabouts?"

"Elves have sworn loyalty to whom they swear a vow to," Severus explained. "He would not be able to tell anyone anything about me or Harry. Not just unable upon a breach of contract like us, but he would actually be unable to. It's similar to an unbreakable vow for wizards."

"It sounds like Treadle is a dead end then," Molly said.

"I think the incident with the puppy is clearly the salient point to discuss," Minerva commented. "Was it a someone transfigured? An animagus? And, of course, who wanted to lure him away?"

"There are any number of people who would prefer the child dead," Albus sighed. "I think there are too many to be helpful. I think the more helpful thing would be to talk about how we keep him safe."

"My property is well warded," Severus agreed. "But we will need to reinforce the wards at the Weasleys if we are to spend more time there."

"Molly and I will work on that," Arthur agreed. "This may not be the time to discuss it, but we think Harry would benefit from our families spending time together. We need to make our house as safe as possible.'

"Perhaps it is time for us to be friends," Molly smiled at him.

Snape nodded almost imperceptibly, not knowing what to do with their easy offer of friendship. Didn't they know who he was? He didn't have friends, he had allies and enemies. What in the world would being friends entail? He felt comforted that Arthur had not said that they thought Harry would live with them, but voiced him and harry as a family together. His heart warmed just a bit, until he clenched his fists in order to ignore distractions. "I put a trace on him when he breached the wards for the first time," Snape told them, refocusing on the task at hand. "He is underage, so that would make him having a portable port key difficult."

"Perhaps a panic button?" Molly suggested. "When my mum got older and more frail the doctors gave her a button to wear on a chain around her neck that she could touch if she needed help."

"Good idea," Snape nodded. "I'll have to make it so he can do it without a wand, but not accidently. Shouldn't be too hard."

"We also need to have the wards include house elves," Dumbledore intoned. "The issue of Treadle just rankles me in a way that I can't understand yet. Perhaps Maisie can help with that?"

"She seems quite enamored and protective of my ward," Snape told them, the slightest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm sure she would help."

The discussion continued, with ideas suggested and thrown out, until at the end the tea had been drunk and Snape felt much more comfortable about having allies in his duties with the Potter child. Each adult in the room had their assignments in keeping Harry safe and questions to research, and Snape began to relax. When he heard McGonagall's voice, however, he regretted letting his guard down even a little.

"I want to have a conversation with you, Severus," she rapped out. "I believe the others are headed out now."

"Of course, Professor," he replied, forcing himself to appear as if he didn't feel like an errant Hogwarts student before the woman that had been his Professor all those years ago.

The others smirked as they left, as if they knew that Snape was getting a detention. Snape schooled his face and body, not betraying the mounting anxiety he was beginning to feel. He, a formidable wizard who had had the nerve to spy on the Dark Lord himself, still had to force himself not to leap to defense and justifications when faced with the aging Transfigurations Professor. _Although_, he thought reasonably, _Anybody not a little afraid of her could easily spend some time as a tea cozy. She was certainly not one to underestimate_. He could always count on her being, well, so much more of a gryffindor than Dumbledore was. Dumbledore was, well, _practical_ where McGonagall had too much noble honor.

"I am disappointed," she told him, her face very serious. "By your own words you terrorized the poor boy and, worse yet, you were so uninvolved as to allow your servant to do so as well."

"I am, well, I have regret for how I was when Harry first came," Snape admitted softly, not looking the woman in the eye. "I should have done it differently."

"Yes, you should have," she agreed simply, her eyes flashing. "You let your past prejudice you. You are normally so perceptive and vigilant, Severus, the only way you could have missed Harry's true nature and the nature of his previous upbringing was to be deliberately obtuse."

"I was . . . distracted," Snape finished lamely.

"I should say you were! And then to punish the poor boy based on your false assumptions, well, that is nearly unforgivable; especially for someone as damaged as that boy must be."

"I quite agree," Snape agreed softly. Then, suddenly shaking himself, he quipped, "So what's it to be, Professor? Detention? Lines?"

"You cheeky boy," she answered him, but a faint smile touched her lips. "You would not be so dismissive were I to assign you detention with me. But you are getting a bit big for it, so I suppose I will have to content myself with other methods."

"I do agree that I acted wrongly, and I am sorry," Snape told her levelly. "But I only wish that some of your energy for protecting the boy now had translated into checking up on him in the last seven years."

Snape smirked a little as he heard a yelp of outrage from the senior professor.

"You know quite well I wasn't allowed!" she snapped back. And then, sadly, she answered, "I should have gone against Dumbledore on that account at least."

Snape nodded, but did not condemn the witch further.

"I also wanted to say that it takes a good man to address your faults against the boy so thoroughly," McGonagall briskly continued. "It shows strength of character that you so quickly recognized how you were wrong and worked to rectify it. Apologizing to a child Harry's age can be difficult for a lot of people, but you instinctively knew how essential it was. And the relationship that you are starting to build with him now will be his salvation, I am sure of it. I heartily approve your parenting him."

"What?" Snape asked, flabbergasted.

"In fact, I will suggest to Dumbledore that we begin to think about adoption," her eyes twinkled. "I believe that might strengthen the blood wards further."

Snape's eyes prickled in a completely unexpected way, and he could hardly believe what he heard. Censure he was expecting, praise was sweet to hear, but her endorsement for him becoming the father of the boy who was supposed to save them all positively floored him.

"You cannot be serious!" he cried out.

"You, Severus Snape, know me better than that," she told him levelly. "And you also know me well enough when I tell you that I will order you a book about parenting traumatized children that will be sent to you by owl tomorrow. And I will be checking in with you to make sure you're reading it."

"Why do I feel like I've been handed a punishment essay?" he asked suspiciously.

"It must be those instincts that Dumbledore was talking about," she smirked. "I expect the book to be read by this time next week."

And with that, Snape knew he had been dismissed.


	12. Chapter 12

As always, I don't own it. I really appreciate how responsive and supportive this place has been for my first foray into letting others read my work.

It had taken Snape three tries before he got an invitation to Malfoy Manor. He started with a politely phrased letter that asked for Lucius' childrearing advice, to which he got an intelligent though strict reply. Snape smirked a little bit about how different it was to the advice that the book Minerva had bought him offered. Then, he massaged Lucius' ego further by asking his opinion on the futures of potion-grade octopus ink sacks. Then, in the final stroke, he asked if Draco could come over for a "play date" with Harry to try and keep him out of trouble. The invitation to Malfoy Manor was soon forthcoming, Lucius liked having his ego stroked, but in the comfort of his own home.

Snape knew well how to interrogate people without their realizing that they were being questioned. His work as a spy had mostly been doing that, and Lucius had been his target before. But this time he had an unknown factor - his ward, Harry. Would Harry be able to go along with the subterfuge that was needed? Would it work better if he didn't know anything about it?

In the end, Snape decided to tell Harry as little as possible about what would happen that day, but enough so that he realized how important it would be.

"Harry, tomorrow we are going to visit the Malfoys," he told the boy over tea that day.

"Who are they?"

"You met Mr. Malfoy at the sporting goods store," Snape told him. "He's the one who thought I'd spanked you in the changing room."

"I thought he was who you were trying to keep me away from!" Harry exclaimed. "He was scary."

"Yes, he is rather scary," Snape confirmed without a hint of sarcasm. "But I need to ask him a few questions, and in order to do that, we need to go for a visit."

"Is this sort of like being spies?" Harry asked him eagerly.

"Yes," Snape answered. "But to be good spies we need to be really careful. Can I have you play with Draco and not cause any problems?"

"I can do that," Harry agreed. "Draco is my age, right?"

"He is. And he might be a bit, well, a bit spoiled," Snape admitted to the boy. "It might be very difficult to behave yourself and play with him."

"I will do my best," Harry promised, so happy to be included. He could actually help the Professor!

"Good boy," he nodded, and then poured himself another cup of tea. Apparently he was still in good with Maisie.

Snape and Harry arrived at Malfoy Manor at the appointed time of 2 o'clock, which would give the boys some time to play before afternoon tea. Harry had been prepped with the proper manners required, suitably disguised, and dressed in his nicest casual clothes. Harry held Snape's hand as they apparated to the front gates of the manor. As soon as Harry felt that stomach-squeezing jerk, he held onto Snape's hand for dear life. He felt as if his whole body were squeezed through a toothpaste tube and then plopped out again; he had to take deep breaths to keep from throwing up.

"I brought you a little potion," Snape told him, handing him a small vial. "This will help your stomach."

"Thanks," Harry said, drinking the pepperminty potion. His stomach instantly began to relax and unknot, and suddenly he could stand up straight without feeling dizzy. He felt a part of his stomach flip however when he realized how Snape had planned for this - he couldn't remember Petunia ever making an allowance for him like this. Pushing that thought away, and looked up at the Professor.

"It begins now," he said, squeezing Harry's hand and then dropping it. His features became sterner, and he grimaced as he strode up the walk. Harry had to nearly run to keep up with them as they made their way to the front door.

"Severus!" Lucius exclaimed as a house elf showed them into his study. Harry looked at him surreptitiously, thinking that this wizard was very different than any he had seen yet. The man wore long, elegant robes and had perfectly slicked back white hair. And his look was cold and cruel, and Harry gulped at the sight of him. "Welcome! And this is your ward, then?"

"Lucius," Snape inclined his head solemnly. "Yes, this is Mr. Harold Baker, my ward. Harold, say hello to Mr. Malfoy."

"Hello, sir," Harry greeted, his eyes respectfully diverted.

"My son Draco is waiting for you on the lawn. Perhaps I could show you out there? Then you two can entertain yourselves until tea time."

"Thank you, sir," Harry told him, and then followed as the two men swept out of the room ahead of him. He was lead down long, richly furnished hallways with enormous portraits lining each side. He found himself wanting to stop and look at the portraits, though he realized that they looked too important and rich to want to talk to a stray boy wandering the hallways.

"Keep up, Mr. Baker," Snape barked at him, and he jumped.

"Yes, sir," he answered, taking his eyes from the portraits and trying to focus on the two men leading him outside.

Outside, Harry saw an expanse of grass and a small tea table with several chairs around it. Seated at the table was a boy about his age with a woman, probably the mother, sitting quietly.

"Draco," Lucius introduced, "This is Harold Baker. He is Professor Snape's new ward whom I have told you about."

"Mr. Baker," Draco greeted him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry greeted him.

"You two wander out and enjoy yourselves," Mrs. Malfoy told them. "Draco, perhaps Mr. Baker would like to see your treehouse."

"Yes, mother," he replied. "Come along, Mr. Baker."

Harry followed Draco across the lawn and over to a small copse of trees without saying anything. He watched the boy, only a little bigger than himself, as he walked with an aristrocratic arrogance that Harry had never seen. But there is one thing he had seen - he knew the set of the boy's jaw and the way he looked at Harry. Draco was like Dudley, Harry would bet money on it. And everything in him kicked into a mode to protect himself - using the instincts that had been finely honed by his cousin.

"So what's your story, then?" Draco asked in a bored voice. "How did you get to be ol' Snape's ward?"

"My parents are dead," Harry explained. "My mum had named him as my Godfather."

"Rather bad luck, that," Draco drawled. "Ol' Snape is a right taskmaster. I've stayed with him a few times while my parents have travelled, and it's all about rules, essays and reading. The bloody fool had me work all morning, and hardly let me be on my broom either."

"Do you have a broom?" Harry asked, choosing to not bite on the disparagement of his guardian. "I've been having so much fun with mine."

"What kind do you have, then?" Draco demanded.

"A Safesweep 16," Harry answered.

"That's a baby broom!" Draco snorted. "How can you even do anything on that thing?"

"I can do corkscrews and dives," Harry answered. "I think I want to be a seeker."

"Aim high, much?" Draco smirked. "I wish we could have a go with a broom today, but Mother said I can't with you here."

"Maybe next time I can bring my broom," Harry offered.

"Whatever," Draco said. "So my mom wanted me to show you my stupid treehouse. I swear, there should be a law for not subjecting people over the age of seven to something so silly as a treehouse."

"Well, if that's what she wants us to do, maybe you should just show it to me then."

Agreeing, Draco led him over to a large tree in the middle. "You tap here," Draco showed him. "And it takes you up."

Harry tapped that spot on the tree, and suddenly found himself thrown up and deposited unceremoniously on the floor of the treehouse.

"Merlin's sake, you're clumsy," Draco smirked. "It's just like taking a floo, you fool."

"It surprised me," Harry admitted, looking around. "We're pretty high up here!"

"There are wards so that we can't fall off," Draco explained. "See, I told you. Baby stuff."

"I've never seen a treehouse like this before," Harry said, remembering what Snape had told him about getting Draco talking about himself and things he liked. "Can you show me more of what it does?"

Draco spent the next hour educating Harry on the ins and outs of his treehouse, and Harry obediently listened and admired. He hoped that Snape would have enough time to conduct his interrogation.

"Your ward seems to not look anything like you," Narcissa observed. "I thought he was related?"

"Distantly, Narcissa," Snape confirmed. "He's my cousin's son. On the other side of the family."

"Unfortunate name," Lucius added. "Especially given that _that boy_ will likely be at Hogwarts with Harold and Draco."

"Yes, yes," Snape answered. "Most unfortunate. I am insisting on his name not being shortened to Harry, of course."

"PIty you can't change it," Lucius shrugged. "But I suppose it cannot be helped."

"Of course you must wonder what it will be like for your son to go to school with _that boy _when the time comes," Snape commented. "I confess I have thought about what it would be like to teach him when the time comes."

"Would that the muggles he's being raised with just keep him," Lucius smirked.

"I know that has always been the suspicion," Snape asked. "But I wonder how he could have been so well concealed there. I sometimes wonder if he was spirited away to another country."

"Our contacts elsewhere would have found him," Lucius waved the thought away. "Only here could he be well-concealed."

"You would know better than I," Snape stroked his ego.

"Yes, yes," Lucius answered. "But that is one nice thing about if he does go to Hogwarts. We will have more access."

"And he will have formidable protectors," Snape reasoned. "Even the Dark Lord thought twice about taking on Dumbledore."

"That is why we will have to be sneaky," Lucius answered, smiling cruelly. "Perhaps we should collaborate."

"What is that there?" Snape asked, looking where the boys had disappeared.

"It appears to be my son," Lucius drawled. "Looking rather angry."

Snape glared sharply at Draco, seeing his offended anger in every step as he stalked back to the house. Harry followed behind, looking as if he was about to bolt. Snape knew before he got into hearing range that Harry had done something awful to offend the Malfoy heir.

"He hit me!" Draco yelled as soon as he could be heard. "He punched me right in the eye!"

Snape looked, and saw the darkening and swelling around Draco's eye, grimaced in annoyance. This was not good for the work we had to do. He pulled himself up to full height and fixed a glare at his errant ward. Harry, panicking at the look Snape gave him on top of his already nearly overwhelming guilt, followed his feet away from them and into the house.

"He seems to have made a runner for the broom closet under the stairs," Lucius observed in a disinterested voice.

"What happened, Draco?" Snape asked.

"He just punched me!" Draco insisted, his pride wounded. "We were playing in the treehouse, just as mother told me to do. We were talking about just general things, and he suddenly punched me!"

"I see," Snape answered. "Lucius, I must apologize for my ward. Obviously I will remove him from your property at once."

"You should be able to admonish him adequately here and not interrupt our tea," Lucius smiled coldly. "And Draco deserves an apology after it's done."

"If you insist," Snape nodded. "He certainly does deserve that. May I offer a healing potion for young Draco?"

"I have already sent for a house elf to fetch some," Narcissa answered lightly. "Why don't you take a minute for your new, er, responsibility."

"Do you need a cane?" Lucius asked, solicitously.

"My transfiguration skills are adequate to the task," Snape told him, inclining his head. "If you will please excuse me."


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own anything, thse are not my characters. Commentors had some great ideas of where this could go, thanks for getting me to think of different ideas! But this was already written, so I went with what I had. :)

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Harry crouched in the corner of the closet, trembling. This closet was several times the size of his old closet, it was almost the size of the second bedroom that Dudley occupied. He nestled against the brooms and mops, trying to become invisible. He clutched his knees close to his chest and rocked, trying to calm the sobs and the crying. He knew the Professor would surely send him away this time. He couldn't believe what had happened - his fist had flown before he even realized what was happening. And then it made that awful crunching sound as it connected - Harry shuddered at the memory. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe it. Maybe if he could just hide in there forever.

Harry didn't hear a door unlock, but suddenly became aware of a presence beside him. He knew without looking who that presence was, but he could not bring himself to lift up his eyes and look. Maybe if he just kept rocking. But there was an insistent silence and presence beside him, and his feet flexed to ready him to flee. But then hopelessness took over, and found himself welcoming the violence that he was sure would come in order to stop feeling the pain. Maybe Snape would even kill him. He sat there, still, waiting for Snape to advance and tensing his muscles, waiting for the blows. But instead Snape waited. Sighing, Harry looked right at him and their eyes locked. Harry looked down in shame.

"Well?" Snape finally broke the silence.

Harry felt his tongue freeze, and he couldn't answer. He looked down again in shame.

"I can't believe you hit him," Snape growled. "We are guests here, and the Malfoys are very powerful and socially our superiors. What could that boy possibly have done to make you hit him?"

"He called my mother names when I said that she had muggle relatives," Harry answered, sniffing. "I didn't understand what they meant, exactly, but you could tell what he meant by the way he said it. And then . . ."

"Yes?" Snape prompted.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing what he said now damned him. "I, I told him to take it back. He smirked, and said that I should go crying to my dead mum about it. He said it only showed how pathetic you were that you would take in the son of a mudblood. I just saw red, and my fist was flying before I could stop it. Really, sir, I didn't mean to do it." His tears restarted, and he rubbed his cheeks on his knees.

"He called your mother a mudblood?" Snape growled, his face scowling intensely.

"A couple of times," Harry told him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's kind of like swearing for wizards," Snape explained. "It is a filthy name for someone muggle-born. He was trying to incite you, Harry. And he was successful."

"I know I should not have," Harry told him quietly. "Do you hate me now?"

"I do not hate you, child," Snape told him. "But we are in somewhat of a situation. I need to punish you for this. You know better and Draco deserves to hear it done."

"I understand," Harry sniffed, mortified. He was hoping to go home first, but he understood. The thought of that prat hearing him getting whacked, however . . .

"I will use a ruler, Mr. Baker, and I hope you realize the leniency I'm giving you," Snape briskly told him. "You deserve the cane. I hope this is a lesson to you, and Draco deserves to hear it done."

"Yes, sir," Harry told him. "If it helps, I really am sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times that I'm not interested in your arguments," Snape told him. "It is a waste of my time to listen to your pathetic excuses."

In surprise at words so different than he had promised, Harry looked up at Snape. Snape glared at him, and then winked. Harry gasped in surprise, what was going on? Snape continued, "Now then, I want no arguments as you lean over this stool. I'm going to spank you hard to teach you this lesson, but you may cry out as much as you need to."

Harry obeyed, mortified. He realized he was a little sad not to have the comfort of Snape's lap, but also realized there was no good chair in here for Snape to sit upon. He saw Snape transform a dust cloth into a long, polished eighteen inch ruler; a formidable weapon. Harry swallowed when he saw it, and then turned his eyes away in fear. He put his hope in that wink that the Professor had given him, and closed his eyes in fear.

The first smack cracked loudly through the small room, and Harry waited for the sting that should follow. In surprise, he looked at Snape as he realized that it wasn't going to hurt much. Snape glared at him, and brought the ruler down again to the same effect. Harry looked up in confusion.

"I can see you're trying not to cry out," Snape told him. "But believe me when I say that you will cry out before we are done here. Draco deserves to _hear it done_."

Instantly, Harry understood. With the next smack he let out a small yelp, making it sound like he was trying to hold back. But by the tenth smack he was openly crying out, wriggling around and acting like the smacks hurt badly. He even managed to have some tears, it had been easy when he simply thought about how he would feel if this really did happen. After twenty smacks, Snape paused in the punishment. "You will receive one more smack," Snape told him. "It will hurt more than the others, and it will help you remember your bottom hurts." With that, he brought the ruler down once more. This time, Harry felt the ruler make contact and the accompanying sting snapped across both of his buttocks.

"Ouch!" he called out in earnest.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Snape growled, transforming the ruler back into a dust cloth. "You got exactly what you deserved. Now, here is a handkerchief. You are going to clean up your face a bit and we are going to go back and have tea. I expect you to apologize to Draco for hitting him. I assume that you will be too sore to sit to tea."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, his cheeks bright red at having to play the part of the properly punished child for Draco to gloat about.

"You knew what you were in for when you came," Snape told him sternly. "Now is the time to show your backbone."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled again, but this time straightening his spine. _I have a part to play to help Snape, _he told himself. _Spies have done far worse things than apologize_.

Harry followed Snape out of the stuffy closet and back out to the tea table, rubbing his bottom a little as they went. He had no idea why Snape didn't really spank him, nor why they had to play-act this out. But he wanted to trust Snape, he obviously had a plan for what to do. He also turned over what he would say in his head, seeing if there was a way to implicate Draco.

Lucius saw them coming, and seeing Harry looking uncomfortable and chastened, and he nodded in confirmation. Honor had been satisfied.

"Harold would like to address Draco," Snape intoned, turning to his errant ward.

"I am very sorry for hitting you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, his eyes looking down and sniffing a little. He hoped that he looked small and innocent. "Before today I had never heard the term 'mudblood' and it hurt my feelings when you called my dead mum that. But I promise to work on keeping my temper even when provoked."

Snape glared at him sharply, but could not technically fault the apology. He should have warned the boy that poking Lucius was like poking a wasp nest. If he felt threatened by any slight to the Malfoy honor he could rise up to destroy faster than the attacker could blink. Instead of attacking, however, Lucius turned his gaze upon his own son, who was squirming under his father's glare. Snape had to smile a little at how Harry had humbly implicated Draco.

"We shall have a discussion about language later, Draco," Lucius smoothly told his son. "Now then, manners dictate that we move on. Who would like some tea?"

During tea, Harry stood awkwardly sipping his tea and nibbling on biscuits. He tried to remember how he acted when Uncle Vernon would beat him, and he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. During the tea Draco glared at him, knowing full well that Harry's apology was going to land him in hot water as soon as their guests left. Harry, with a cautious glance at Snape, glared back just enough to let Draco know that he was not cowed.

"It is good that young Harold can have the exposure to families like ours," Narcissa smoothly said, putting down her tea. "We shall have to do this again sometime."

"I'm sure it has been most instructive," Snape answered. "I'm afraid that we must run along now, however. Thank you for your kind hospitality."

"And we shall meet further to discuss more of the same," Lucius said. "And I'm due at the ministry this afternoon. I'm not sure what the world is coming to with Saturday evening meetings."

Harry, mumbling out his thanks, followed the Professor out of the room and down the walk. He remained silent as they walked, trying to look every inch the humble and chastened young boy. He hoped he would never have to see that boy Draco again. Snape silently took his hand once they were beyond the gates, and the apparated back home.

Upon entering their home, Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. At last he could breathe again! He looked at Snape with some trepidation, however. Was he angry?

"Well, that was most instructive," Snape said, glancing away and clearly mulling things over in his mind.

"Did you learn what you wanted to learn?" Harry asked.

"Not what would have been easiest," Snape admitted, unbuttoning his top button and grimacing. "But I learned that they know nothing."

"Then all that was a waste!" Harry exclaimed.

"Not a waste," Snape corrected. "Knowing that they know nothing is actually something pretty significant. It means that there is nothing systemic being organized, but rather the work of a solo person or small group."

"Did I ruin it by punching Draco?" he asked reluctantly.

"You nearly did," Snape admitted. "But I think we were able to rescue the situation. I trust that you did not find your punishment too onerous?"

"You know that it was only the last smack that hurt," he told him, rubbing his backside. "Thank you for not giving me a proper whacking." He resisted the urge to ask if he was going to get a proper whacking; he was starting to understand that not everything he did would end with such a fate.

"You were clearly provoked," Snape answered, a small look of sympathy crossing his face. "You should have been able to withstand his taunts, but I understand that you have a breaking point. In some ways it makes me happy that you will defend yourself, but in the future let's work on defending yourself verbally for verbal assaults. Propriety dictated that I had to punish you, and Lucius made it clear that was what he expected me to do. So I charmed the ruler for everything but the last whack. The last whack was insurance just in case Lucius investigated further, you would not have received that if I had been able to take you home like I originally tried. I was just hoping you would understand what I needed you to do without saying, and I was very relieved when you did."

"It took me a few minutes, but I figured it out," Harry told him. "Could they have overheard you in the closet?"

"I would not trust those old houses a bit," Snape answered. "Although at least in the closet we were unobserved by the paintings. Why did you run in there, Harry?"

"It seemed safe," Harry answered, shrugging.

Snape sighed, and sat down on one of the worn chairs. Rubbing his face, he motioned for Harry to sit down on the other chair.

"Boys your age do not usually think of closets as safe," Snape told him softly. "Harry, you can trust me. Why did you run into the closet?"

"When I lived with my Aunt and Uncle I slept in the closet under the stairs," Harry explained, tears stinging his voice. "When I was naughty they used to lock me in there, sometimes for days at a time. After they, well, you know."

"I see," Snape replied gravely. "That is why you were so excited to get your own room."

Harry nodded, wiping his eyes.

"You did an excellent job for your first time out as a spy. Thank you for trusting me," Snape told him, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Both for now and for at the Malfoy's house. For someone who has been hurt by adults as many times as you have been, it is a deep honor that you have chosen to trust me."

"Would you ever really whack me with a cane like you said I deserved?" Harry asked quietly, not able to not ask it. "Even if I deserve it?"

"I promise not to abuse you," Snape told him. "I understand that it can be hard to believe me."

"I want to believe you."

"I'll make you a bet," Snape told him firmly. "If I ever abuse you either by by punishing you unjustly or by hurting you beyond a temporary sting on your bottom, then I will pay you one hundred Galleons."

"Really?" Harry squeaked. Then, feeling cheeky and playful in response to Snape trying to make him feel safe, he replied, "How about two hundred?"

"Deal," Snape told him with a smirk. Then, more seriously, he said, "I am your guardian now Harry, and we are the closest thing to family that either of us has. I want you trust me enough not to run from me again."

"I will try," Harry answered soberly. Then, not knowing if Snape would protest or not, Harry went over and snuggled against his guardian's chest. He felt Snape wrap his arms around him and hold him tight, and Harry felt as if he could stay in that embrace forever.

"I didn't realize until now that you must have been so frightened when you came to live with me," Snape admitted, "You knew nothing about me."

"I wasn't really scared," Harry whispered. "I had to believe anywhere was better than where I was."


	14. Chapter 14

Recognizable characters belong to the great and mighty JKR, the rest belongs to me and my psyche.

When the group met back together a week later, everyone had finished their assigned task. Snape had "interrogated" Lucius Malfoy, Arthur had created a wearable alarm that did not require a wand to operate, and Molly had made Snape a clock similar to the one she used for the children indicating where they were at all times. Snape had been so impressed by the alarm that he floo'd home to take it to Harry right away, helping him conceal it under his shirt before returning to the meeting. Minerva's contribution had been to research and try and trace the transfiguration of the puppy, and Dumbledore strengthened the wards both at Spinner's End and the Burrow. But even with all this work, Snape was not satisfied.

"But we're just waiting for him to strike again!" he complained, knowing that there was little else they could do.

"He or she will have to show themselves before we can know more," Minerva sighed. "There is some strange magic going on here, something out of our regular experience."

"I'm afraid there is not much else to do," Dumbledore told them despondently. "We have done our best to prevent his being captured and to have systems in place for if it does happen, but in the end all we can do is wait until the person shows himself."

"What about a fidelius charm?" Minerva asked.

"The wards that are up are at least that strong," Dumbledore told her. "And Spinner's End is already very difficult to find. I don't think it would help."

"Have we thought about bait?" Snape asked, glaring at the ceiling. "Maybe I could Polyjuice myself and take my wand . . ."

"Do you have polyjuice potion made up?" McGonagall asked.

"No," Snape admitted. "I don't think it's the kind of thing that's a good idea to keep at a school full of mischievous teenagers. Obviously there's no time to make any, but I will look into seeing if any of my contacts have it made . . ."

"Maybe he should have a wand," Molly suggested. "He is so young for it, but maybe with a wand and a few spells . . ."

"It would have to be a family wand," Arthur added. "Olivander won't sell you one for an eight year old. I agree, we should arm Harry."

"There are risks to arming an underage wizard," Dumbledore countered. "There are reasons that we usually wait until eleven. Not to mention the fact that he would have zero chance against a fully trained wizard."

"Those should be secondary to the needs that the child has now!" Molly insisted. "It will not do him any good to wait until eleven if he doesn't live that long!"

"Do you have family wands, Professor?" Arthur asked.

"We have some from the Prince line, yes," he answered. "I shall give Harry a chance tomorrow morning to see if any respond to him."

But really, everyone knew that the threat would still exist until they were able to identify and confront the threat. And that wasn't going to happen until the person struck again.

The next morning as Snape prepared to go to Hogwarts, he laid out the seven wands that he had inherited as part of his Prince family legacy. Some wizards were buried with their wands, and some were passed on to descendants to see if they might suit a young wizard. Snape's mother had given him one of the family wands when he went to Hogwarts, they had been too poor to get a proper one fitted to him at Olivander's. It hadn't been until he was nearly ready to take the dark mark that he had saved enough money to get his own wand.

Pushing back those memories, Snape had put out the seven wands for Harry to see. Harry looked at them thoughtfully, wondering why these wands were here.

"You are too young for your own wand," Snape explained to him. "But it might be helpful for you to know a few spells in case you are attacked. So I wanted to see if any of these wands responds to you."

"Responds?" Harry asked, quizzically.

"PIck one up," Snape said. "You'll see."

Harry picked up the first one, feeling it get a little warm in his hand.

"Give it a wave," Snape told him, and when Harry obeyed several sparks flew out the end.

"Hmm," Snape concentrated. "Try the next one.'

In the end, one wand was chosen that had given a steady spray of sparks.

"I will teach you more spells as we go," Snape explained. "But for now I want you to learn one really good one. Now, the word is Expelliarmus. You say it firmly and wave the wand like this, see?" He demonstrated with his own wand.

Harry practiced, saying it several times until it felt natural.

"This spell disarms someone," Snape explained. "And, if said with power and passion, it can also knock the person over or even out. Now, I want you to try it on me."

"On you, sir?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"I seriously doubt you will able to so much as give me a papercut your first time with a wand, Harry," he smirked. "Now, I have my wand, try to disarm me."

Harry, still doubtful, waved his wand as Snape had showed him and said, "Expelliarmus."

"Own it," Snape barked at him. "Disarm me."

Harry said it again, this time his wand warmed a little and Snape felt a small tug on his wand.

"Again," he commanded. "Pretend that I am someone frightening that is about to attack you."

Harry had a flash of his Uncle, planted his feet sternly, and barked, "Expelliarmus!"

Snape felt his wand fly out of his hand and his chest feel a strong push back, knocking the air out of him. He blinked in amazement, he had never seen a child do that before. He had hoped that Harry might eventually get the wand out of his hand without him holding on it very firmly, but he had not expected this. Taking a deep breath to belay his astonishment, he bent to pick up his wand.

"Very good," Snape praised, getting his wind back. "All right, the other one I'm going to show you today is Stupefy. It can be used to stop someone, and if done correctly will render them unconscious. Now, bring the wand down forcefully and say it loudly, like you mean it."

"Should I do it to you again?" Harry asked, a little concerned that his last spell had managed to push his guardian back a little.

"Yes," Snape told him. "If you can knock me down I will take you out for ice cream."

Smiling, Harry tried the next charm. It took several times, and he saw Snape beginning to be pushed by the spell.

"You must use your emotions," Snape told him. "It's not just about words for this spell, it is about conviction and passion. You must want to knock me down; that's why I offered you ice cream. Now mean it!"

"Stupefy!" Harry rang out and a blast knocked against Snape, nearly knocking him down. Snape was able right himself, and smirked at the boy.

"Very good, Harry," he told him. "That's how you do it. Next time I dare say you will be successful. I don't want to wear you out, so we should end for today. Oh dear, I'm going to be late. Now, I want you to promise me not to touch any wand unless I am practicing with you, all right?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, feeling a little shocked about how good it had felt to cast those charms.

"I mean it Harry, it is very dangerous to be doing wand work unsupervised at your age. However, if you ever are in danger," he glared at him to make his point clear. "Get. a. wand. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

"Good, then," Snape responded. "I'll see you at four for tea then."

Harry spent the morning working on what Snape had assigned, but his mind had really been on the wand. It had felt so good - like the wand focused the random energy that he had and put it towards what he wanted. That one moment had taught him more about being a wizard than anything he had done so far. He longed to be able to try out the wand again, but knew very well that it would be foolish to try. But he did find himself practicing the word and the wand movements with his quill.

Maisie had given him an apple to eat as he walked in the yard that afternoon. His teeth pierced the skin of the apple as he thought about the spell again. Could it be used against someone who was unarmed? What if they were armed with something other than a wand, like a gun or knife? He would have to ask the Professor at tea.

"Harry!" he heard someone call, turning his head. He saw that it was Percy Weasley.

"Percy!" Harry yelled back. "What are you doing here?"

"There's been an accident," Percy explained. "In the potions lab. I was sent to fetch you right away."

"Is the professor all right?" Harry asked, beginning to panic.

"I don't know," Percy answered. "But I think it's serious. I can't come in because of the wards, you'll have to come out."

"And then you'll take me to Hogwarts?" Harry asked. He felt a niggle of doubt in his head, he wondered if Snape would be mad if he went beyond the wards again. But this was surely an emergency . . .

"Hurry!" Percy insisted.

Throwing caution to the wind, he took a deep breath and began to push the membrane of the wards. He found them stronger than last time, but he focused on pushing through. His hand popped free of the membrane, and he felt Percy grab his hand firmly. Instantly, he was apparated away.

When they appeared with that stomach-sickening jerk, Harry's nose was assaulted with smells of dust and mold. He saw dark, dingy wallpaper and dark, dusty velvet curtains. Turning his head, he came face to face with a creature that truly struck fear into his heart: Treadle. Harry suddenly realized that he was not in Hogwarts at all and that Percy had just been the latest attempt to lure him away. His hand went to his alarm on his shirt and he was able to press it as he heard a voice cry out, "Stupefy!" And then everything went black.


	15. Chapter 15

As always, I do not own nor make money.

A note from the author: I realize this chapter is short and unsatisfying (sorry about the cliffhanger!), but I wanted to assure people that I have the story written, I just want more time editing before I post it. I should have the entirety of the fic posted by tomorrow. There are only two more chapters to go after this one, but I am kicking around the idea of a sequel.

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Harry's eyes blinked open. His cheek rested on a cold stone floor and his skin shivered against the chill. He tested his muscles, finding them stiff but not damaged. He brought his hand to his forehead, where he felt a large bump had formed, probably as the result of hitting the ground after that spell had knocked him out. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his eyesight.

"Yous awake," he heard Treadle rap out. "I will get Mistress."

Harry, trying to sit up, looked around the room drunkenly. His hand reached for where the alarm should have been, only to find it gone. He prayed that he was able to trigger the alarm properly before it had been taken, and that the Professor could figure out where he had gone. But for now he would have to try and take care of himself. Looking around, he saw that the room was worn and filthy, moldy and dusty with disuse. It looked as if the room had at one time been richy decorated, but now the velvet curtains hung dusty and moth-eaten and the furniture lay under a layer of dust. Thinking about trying to be able to protect himself, he looked around the room for a weapon. He wished he could have a wand, surely one of those spells would come in handy now.

"Welcome to my home, filthy blood traitor," he heard a woman's voice from behind him.

Harry spun around to see an elderly woman glaring at him, her wand drawn. Harry quickly got to his feet, and took a step back from her, shaky. She glared at him, her face cracking with hate and contempt. He saw her rumpled, outdated clothes and her flyaway hair, as well as her gaunt frame. Had she not been holding that wand Harry would have thought her laughable, not a threat. But he knew that that wand could hurt him.

"My name is Harold Baker," Harry told her, his hands out in a protective stance. "I am Professor Severus Snape's ward."

"I know who you are, liar," she spat at him. "You are Harry Potter, and you are responsible for the death of the Dark Lord as well as the imprisonment of my son."

"I was a baby," Harry protested.

"There is no such thing as innocence," she shrilled at him. "My son was no innocent, Merlin knows that I disowned him! But to be imprisoned like he is, a blight to the Black Family name! It is not to be borne."

Harry looked at her again, and realized that this woman was quite mad. He licked his lips, realizing that this could not be handled by logic. He had to stall until Snape could rescue him.

"I was so young I didn't know your son," Harry told her. "Can you tell me more about him?"

"Who? Sirius?" she snarled. "Stupid boy, got himself sorted into Gryffindor. Couldn't do anything right, right from the beginning. Not like my darling Regulus. You probably killed him too."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," Harry protested, his feet light and ready to run. "Is that why you've been trying to get me? To tell me that I hurt you?"

"To punish you, of course," she told him with an evil sneer. "Treadle did his work well for a mindless house elf. Imagine that idiot Snape not knowing he harbored a spy from me for the Dark Lord all these years. Ha! People say that Walburga Black is crazy, but soon the wizarding world will know that the house of Black will not just go away! We will go in a blaze of glory!"

"I could definitely tell everyone how great the house of Black is," Harry told her, trying to placate her. "Your plan to lure me away was brilliant!"

"And will be complete with your dead and battered body," she smirked, grabbing his arm.

Suddenly, she jerked away from him with a hiss of pain. Harry saw the palm of her hand had been reddened and blistered by touching him.

"Blood wards!" she hissed, glaring at her hand. "Who knew to do such an ancient magic on you? And who sacrificed for it to be true?"

"My mother," Harry answered simply. "She died protecting me from Lord Voldemort."

"You dare speak his name!" she screeched, and raised her hand to slap him before she thought better of it. "Your filthy mudblood mother!"

_Think, don't react,_ Harry told himself. Hitting her like he'd hit Draco would get him nowhere. Crazy she may be, but she still had a wand.

"Even then they should not work unless you are living with someone who shares your mother's blood. Is that why you were being cared for by muggles for so long?"

"I believe so," Harry calmly told her.

"But now why does it still work?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Black," Harry answered. "I'm just a boy that doesn't know much of anything about magic, really."

"You woke up before I could lock you away," she told him, shaking her wand at him. "You will go and get in that closet for now until I can decide what to do with you. That blood ward is going to take some work to overcome."

Harry saw the closet she was referring to, and he suddenly felt even more panic rising in his stomach. Once locked in there he was cornered, and he knew from experience how much of a sitting target he would be in there. Surely the fact that she couldn't touch him would have to be somewhat of an advantage.

"I'm scared of the closet," he said, his voice plaintive. "Please, Mrs. Black, don't make me go in there. I don't even have a nightlight."

"What are you going on about?"

"I'm scared of the dark," Harry lied, trying to look convincing. "Professor Snape always gives me a light."

"Foolish brat," she growled. "Get in that closet."

"Please, madame, Professor Snape says . . ."

"Enough what that bloody half-blood says!" she screeched. "If he knows what is best for him then he will declare himself well shed of you!"

"Please, madame, I can't go in there!" Harry started crying, with only most of it an act. "It is too scary! What if there's a monster in there?"

"Stupefy!" she declared, but Harry was ready. He bounced away, and the blast hit a vase beside him, smashing it.

"Hold still you bloody brat!" she screeched.

Harry didn't bother to answer, but kept on the balls of his feet. He eyed the doorway behind her, trying to figure out how to get past her. If he could just get past her and get outside maybe he could . . .

The Stupefy spell hit him by surprise, and the last thing he saw was her evil smirk.


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own, I'm just borrowing. I hope this chapter answers some questions (which have been very helpful, by the way)

Harry awoke with rough hands shaking him. Strong hands picked him up by gripping the sides of the sleeves of his jumper and hauled him upright.

"Potter!" a voice rapped out. "Potter! Wake up, Potter!"

Harry blinked, and looked into the very irate face of the Potion Master. With a cry of relief, Harry launched forward and into his arms. Tears streamed down his face, and he clutched at Snape's robes fiercely. Snape held onto the boy with both arms, as if he was afraid the child would slip away from him again. Tears formed in his eyes too, mostly unnoticed, as he let himself enjoy the embrace for the smallest part of a moment.

"Harry, listen to me," Snape told him quickly. "This is not over yet. You must tell me what you know as quick as you can."

Harry quickly told him everything, from Percy to Treadle, with Snape still gripping his jumper firmly, as if he never wanted to let him go.

"You left the wards? Again?!" he asked incredulously. "How could you have done that after all we did to keep you safe?!"

"I'm sorry," Harry cried, tears falling. "But Percy said that you had been hurt . . ."

"It wasn't Percy, I'm quite sure, it was a lure," Snape snapped. "Probably Polyjuice. It had to be someone at the school that you would automatically trust. Merlin! Treadle was a spy for Voldemort?! He belonged to that looney bat the whole time?"

Harry watched as Snape's grip on his shoulders tightened, and his breathing became hard and his eyes flashed with anger. His grip was mostly jumper and not his arms so it didn't really hurt, but the anger he felt rising in Snape frightened him. The man looked ready to burst with all of the emotion he was feeling.

"Professor?" Harry asked softly, putting his hand on Snape's arm. "Sir? You're scaring me."

Snape heard the words, and shook himself. It was rare indeed that he let his emotions have full reign, and he needed to take them back a bit. Anger he was used to, he admitted, but the feeling of utter fear since he had first found Harry missing was much more difficult to manage. He found himself taking breaths, closing his eyes, and trying to maintain control. He realized that he had never in his adult life felt such fear as when he realized that Harry was gone, and that was what was fueling his anger.

Calmer, he looked at Harry again, and relaxed his hold on the boy. "We cannot apparate out, the wards here are preventing it."

"But they let you in?"

"It's a common mechanism for traps," Snape glowered. "Apparently the old bat isn't completely senile. Did she say what she wanted with you?"

"To punish me for destroying her family line," Harry told him. "But touching me burned her, so she had to think about what to do about that."

"Good, that bought us time. The others are working on things from the outside, but I came in to see if there was anything I could do here. Where are we, the broom closet?"

"Probably locked in," Harry nodded. "She wanted me to go in when I was awake, but I tried really hard to get away. She used Stupefy on me."

"We need to think," Snape replied. "There has to be a way out of this. I would most likely best her in a duel, but what about for you? You could easily get caught in the crossfire."

"What if I'm hidden?" Harry asked. "Would that work better?"

"Maybe," Snape said. "Maybe. But I have the feeling she would go for you even if she was losing, and you wouldn't be hard for her to find."

"How did you find me?"

"I have a trace on you that seemed to falter once you got here," Snape explained. "But you managed to get the alarm off, which works like a patronus charm. I would not have been able to find you easily without it, this house is well hidden. But the alarm went and got me and brought me back."

"Can we send it out to other people? Like Dumbledore?"

"He knows, child," Snape told him. "They are trying right now to break in. What if . . ."

At that the door burst open, flooding the dim closet with light. Snape, in a practiced and instant movement, turned, rose up, pointed his wand and barked, "Expelliarmus!" at the same time that the witch said, "Petrificus Totalus!" Snape's body stiffened, froze, and fell uncomfortably onto his back. Harry panicked, not knowing what could possibly happen to him now.

The evil witch peered into the closet, and down at the stiffened body of the Professor. "Severus Snape," she dripped acidly from her mouth. "I see that you have decided to join us. I would have thought you would be happy to unload this burden." She giggled girlishly, poking at his leg with her toe. "Though you are a great and mighty wizard, I am sure, you are no match for someone with a few second advantage. Oh, I was a great duelist in my day, I was!"

Harry looked at her in disbelief, choking down the fear that was rising in him. What was he going to do? The woman now had him at her mercy, his guardian was frozen if not dead, and even Dumbledore was not able to break into the wards. He was alone.

_Get a wand_, he heard in his head. Looking at Snape, he saw the man's eyes flash down towards his wand. _Get my wand_, it repeated.

Without even wondering how Snape could put things into his head, Harry nodded slightly and began to move towards Snape's wand, still clutched in his hand.

The witch looked back, and Harry froze. "You, Severus Snape, Potions Master at the great and mighty Hogwarts, head of Slytherin, didn't even realize that my house elf was pretending to be your family house elf for all that time! Voldemort himself asked if he could borrow Treadle for that purpose, and of course I complied as long as he let me keep Kreacher. You have been a trusting fool!"

Harry edged towards the wand again, seeing that her haranguing of the Professor was distracting her. His hand crept out . . .

"Of course, I would sooner not destroy a great wizard such as yourself, for another war in coming and we need all the soldiers that we can get really," she told Snape. "Now, let's see if I can remember a good memory charm . . ."

Harry pulled the wand out of Snape's frozen grip, aimed, and yelled with all the fear, passion and anger that he could muster, "Stupefy!" A bright flash exuded from the end of the wand, and Harry found himself knocked backward by the force of the spell. But, as he was falling back, he saw his spell hit the witch squarely in the chest and knock her back as well. He lay on the floor, stunned, and then heard chaos erupt around him. Spells flew overhead as Harry suddenly realized that there were more people in the room than just himself. He saw Dumbledore, his wand drawn, and began to cry with relief. Still clutching the wand in his hand, he turned back to where Snape was. Throwing his body on Snape, he just began crying as if he wouldn't stop. Even as he felt Snape be unfrozen and be able to rise to a sitting position, Harry still firmly ensconced on his chest, Harry did not let go of his robes. He felt the Professor's firm arms around him, holding him, and his soft voice murmuring in his ear that everyone was safe. Harry then crumbled, knowing there was someone to hold him safe.

"Is he injured?" he heard Dumbledore ask, concerned.

"He's going to be fine," the Professor answered, his voice belying more confidence than he felt. "I just need to hold him now."

"I see," Dumbledore answered. "Would you like me to contact the authorities to take care of the witch and the house elf?"

"Please do," Snape answered simply. "We're busy right now."

Eventually, the tears stopped. Harry heard all of the commotion around him, and shut his eyes tight against it. He heard what sounded like wizard policeman come and take away Treadle and Walburga Black. He heard the whispers of interviews as the police talked to everyone in the room, but Harry's thoughts were too scattered to be able to process what he heard. When he finally heard Snape being interviewed, and his deep resonant voice explained what had happened, Harry began to relax. It comforted him to have his ear pressed against the Professor's chest and hear his voice buzz and echo as he spoke. Harry hadn't known all that they had done to protect him, and he hadn't known how frantic his guardian had been to find him apparated away by persons unknown. Snape explained everything, from beginning to end, in his deep and sonorous tones.

"Is the boy able to speak?" the officer asked.

"He's in shock," Severus told him evenly. "If you would like to interview him it will have to be tomorrow."

"I'll see what the Captain wants," he answered. "We have the story without him, and he's very young, so we'll see what they want to do. Is it true that he's only eight?"

"Yes, it is," Snape told him.

"And he was able to Stupefy a full grown witch?"

"Well, she was a trifle mad," Snape replied. "But yes, he did."

"Are you sure she was Walburga Black?" he asked. "The Captain noticed that in the hallway there's a tapestry of the Black family tree that says Walburga Black died in 1985."

"I had met her once before," Snape told him. "She seemed like the same person, but I was at school when I met her, so it's hard to know for sure. Perhaps it was her mental illness, it's possible that she was paranoid and wrote the wrong date to elude imagined pursuers. Really, officer, your guess is as good as mine; she was madder than a March hare."

"We will have to have her identity confirmed elsewhere, then. Now, have you taught Harry underage magic?"

"I've demonstrated a few things once, but apparently it was enough for him," Snape explained. ""He was very frightened. You know how young wizards are, it's so hard for them to control accidental magic like that."

"We keep hearing about blood wards," the officer told him. "This was not covered in my auror training. What are they?"

"Dumbledore is more of an expert," Snape told him. "But from what I understand, it is an ancient magic that be cast on purpose or on accident. It requires sacrifice - in this case, it was when Harry's mom sacrificed herself to protect him from the Dark Lord. The blood wards are triggered when someone with a fractured soul who intends harm to Harry or lays their hands on him. The blood magic is in his very skin. And it is very powerful, it protected Harry from the killing curse from an evil wizard in the height of his power. And so when Mrs. Black touched him, it burned her hand. If she had tried a truly harmful curse, something worse than Stupefy, it would have rebounded as well. I'm sure that is why she hadn't killed Harry yet, she recognized the blood ward and was trying to work around it."

"What fractures a soul?"

"Hate, violence, murder," Snape answered. "And people without the means to put it back together again."

"Okay, we'll talk to Dumbledore more about that as well. And do you know how the others broke past the wards for the Black residence?"

"I believe that Maisie my house elf helped them," Snape answered calmly. "They arrived, shall we say, just in time."

"People never think to protect against house elves," the officer smiled. "All right, there's a few things I just to make sure that we understand. Was Treadle your house elf?"

"I thought he was," Snape answered. "Apparently he really belonged to Mrs. Black, and was fooling me all along so he could spy on me for Voldemort. He only pretended to be bonded to the Prince line."

"And you had no reason to doubt him before now?"

"None," Snape answered. "He was there when I inherited my estate, I didn't do the bonding ritual. I was led to believe that I inherited him. Then, he became Mrs. Black's instrument in my house with Harry."

"When the house elf starved and then physically assaulted your ward, did it raise your suspicions? I mean, he should never have been able to harm a member of his bonded family."

"Looking back, it seems very foolish," Snape admitted. "I confess to not knowing enough about house elves, I thought he had perhaps had the elf equivalent of a psychotic break. I got rid of him, and thought we were done with him."

"And you said there were some instances of Harry being lured away," the officer said. "So you took preventative measures, and warned Harry not to leave the wards. But he was still lured away."

"Harry said he saw Percy Weasley. I believe he saw someone masquerading as him, probably with Polyjuice potion," Snape explained. "Percy is someone that Harry would trust. Percy told him that I was injured and needed him, so they were playing on Harry's natural affection for me."

"How did you find him after he was taken?"

"Arthur Weasley made an alarm for Harry to carry with him, based on the same idea as a Patronus charm. When activated, it sent me a message that I could then follow back here to him. So I came."

"And she was able to disarm you?"

"I was put into a full body bind," Snape admitted. "If Harry hadn't taken my wand to defend me . . ."

"I think we have enough for now," the officer told him, seeing how distraught the professor really was. "I will let you know if we have more questions later. It doesn't look like Mrs. Black is going to survive the multiple Stupefy spells aimed at her, so there likely won't be a trial. The elf will be handled by elf authorities, we don't really interfere there. Maybe the boy should go home to bed now."

"Yes," Snape said, not moving his position.

People continued to mull around, and Snape continued to hold the boy.

"Are you angry at me?" Harry asked softly. "I disobeyed you."

"A little," Snape admitted. "I probably will be more so when I can get over the enormous gratitude I'm feeling right now that you're alive and relatively unharmed."

"So I still get to be your ward, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Am I going to get the ruler for this?" Harry asked with some trepidation.

"Absolutely," Snape answered. "But it can wait until after breakfast tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17

_I don't own, I borrow_

_I can't do this_, Snape told himself, looking down at Harry's trouser-clad bottom ready to receive its due. Shortly after a very quiet breakfast, he had found himself in this position with Harry bent over his lap without even being told to do so. They had both known this was coming, and Harry didn't even particularly resent it.

"I'm ready, professor," Harry said, settling on his lap.

"Why am I spanking you, Harry?"

"For going beyond the wards," Harry answered. "In doing so I nearly got myself killed, not to mention the danger you were in."

"If I can't defend myself from the likes of Walburga Black then I deserve what I get," he growled.

"I am very sorry," Harry told him, his voice soft. "I knew as I was doing it that I shouldn't be, but I just couldn't stop."

"Do you have any plea for leniency?" he asked, hoping that the boy did.

"No," Harry answered, shifting a bit. "If I can't follow the safety rules then I deserve what I get."

…,,,...,,,...,,,

Harry had endured the quiet breakfast, having many questions nearly popping out of his mouth but not feeling like he could ask. Snape looked solemn and grave, and Harry ate his breakfast without tasting it.

After breakfast, Snape silently went to his potions lab. Harry frowned, wondering why Snape was avoiding him. Was he so angry that he couldn't even stand to be with Harry? They both knew that he had said he would spank Harry after breakfast, and here it was after breakfast and Harry was left without so much as lines to write or a corner to stand in. Harry realized that it didn't make him happy, instead it made him worried. Would Snape continue to ignore him? Was he done trying to be his guardian? _Well, _Harry decided. _I do not have to just wait. I can make Snape punish me now._

Harry went to the kitchen and took the large, polished 18 inch ruler out of the junk drawer where it had been kept. Looking around for Maisie, he saw that she sat in one corner, watching him carefully.

"Can the Professor still have his tea today, please?" he asked her. "This is my fault, not his."

"I knows," she answered, sniffing. "I's had to rescue yous yesterday. If I did not knows how to break the wards for elves, yous would have died."

"Thank you for saving me, Maisie," he told her honestly. "I am lucky to have you as my elf."

"And I's lucky to have you," she answered, her eyes shining. "But yous need to obeys your guardian, yes?"

"Yes," Harry answered, looking at the ruler. "I will try very hard to."

"I'm goings to go fetch a few things," she told him. "I donts like to hears it done."

"Good idea," he agreed with her.

"I's will brings you something special for lunches," she promised him, and then left with a pop! Harry sighed, working up his courage to do what needed to be done.

He went to the potions lab, and knocked softly on the door.

"Enter," he heard Snape bark, and he gulped a little. Gathering his courage, Harry walked through the door.

"What are you doing in here?" Snape asked him, but without his usual menace.

"I am here to be punished," Harry told him. "You had said after breakfast."

"So I did," Snape agreed, though he paled a bit when he saw that Harry had the ruler. He had purposely left the boy, hoping to avoid the issue until he felt more clear-headed about the whole thing. He was still feeling frozen from what happened yesterday, and the implications of how he felt about what almost happened.

"You are ready to receive your due then, Harry?" he formally intoned, but without the energy he would normally have.

"I am," Harry answered simply.

Snape sighed and pulled out his chair, settling himself upon it and facing Harry. Harry didn't have to be told, he placed the ruler on the table beside them and bent himself over the Professor's lap. He liked that he could be touching the professor during the punishment, it made it feel more intimate and less cold.

…,,,...,,,...,,,...,,,

Snape sat with the boy bent over his lap and wasn't sure he could do this. This was his ward, the boy he had been willing to die for yesterday. Now he was bent over awaiting an admittedly childish punishment from his hand. Snape just felt frozen, waiting for something to happen that meant he didn't have to do it.

And then, Snape realized the thing that he had been pushing down for the past week. He was beginning to love the boy. Not just have affection for or to wish good things for, but to actually love. As in like how he had loved his mother, and how he had loved Lily. He had had so few objects of his love in his live that it had been difficult to recognize this unfamiliar sensation, but once the word popped in his head he was unable to contain it. He loved bloody James Potter's son.

And with that realization, a flood of energy came back into him. He loved the boy, and he was going to make sure that he was going to survive. Snape had watched his mother and Lily die, he was damned if he was going to watch Harry die. Snape's eyes flashed, and he clearly commanded, "Accio ruler!" and it flew to his hand.

"I'm going to give you ten smacks," Snape explained to Harry. "And you will endeavor to think about how you are going to obey me in the future and not foolishly risk your life any more. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, feeling the Professor's renewed determination.

Snape brought the ruler down sharply, making Harry jump and squirm. Then again, and again. Harry squirmed and kicked involuntarily during his spanking, but held himself mostly in place as the ruler continued its relentless progress towards ten. With the last smack, Snape brought it down with extra force, right across his upper thighs.

"Ouch!" Harry cried out, feeling it, but also relieved it was over.

"Do we have an understanding, Harry?" Snape asked sharply, helping the boy up.

"I promise never to go beyond the wards again without your permission," Harry promised, blinking back unfallen tears and rubbing his posterior. "Merlin, that hurt."

"It was meant to," Snape replied caustically, though worried a bit that it had been too hard. "And I would be perfectly happy never repeating that. I do not make the threat of spanking you lightly, Harry, for I am loathe to keep it. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, even if that means warming your bum for you. Is that clear?"

"Clear, sir," Harry replied, and then the tears started falling.

"Do not think your tears convince me that you won the bet and will get your 200 Galleons," Snape sharply told him, but provoked an almost laugh in Harry. "That was a just punishment."

"I agree, it was," Harry replied, sniffing. "You know I wasn't crying because it hurt."

"I know, child," Snape answered.

Harry snuggled against Snape's chest, knowing that Snape still cared about him. He closed his eyes, and felt Snape pull him into an embrace. He then let go more, relieved that he did not have to be the one in charge and that he could trust Snape.

As Snape held the boy, his mind started working properly for the first time since he had been in the body bind yesterday. He began making a list of what he had to do - check and make sure that Walburga Black was truly dead, and if not then hasten that process. He also had a certain elf to get revenge upon, and if the elves did not handle it on their own then Treadle would meet the justice of Severus Snape. He was a patient man, he would find him. And yes, he would also do as McGonagall suggested and look into adoption. Now that he realized he loved Harry, he would not rest while others could take him away at any time. No, it needed to be permanent. They had a lot of work to do.

The End.

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I wanted to say a big thank you for everyone who followed through all the chapters in this story. It has been a very valuable personal journey of mine to let people see my work, and I have been so encouraged by the responses and encouragement I have gotten from people on this site. It has been a wonderful experience.

If you liked this story, come and see what happens in the sequel! The sequel is up and started, and it's called Harry Potter, Age 9. Love to see everyone over there!


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